Incarceration
by Emara88
Summary: In the heat of the moment, Draco saves Hermione's life during the Battle of Hogwarts. Months later, he has been imprisoned in Azkaban for the crime of being a Death Eater. What lengths will she go to in her quest to free him and to repay that debt?
1. Chapter 1

**Incarceration**

 **Hello, I'm back! I've had a very short break from writing but then the ideas bug bit me and I wanted to write this story. It takes place after the war and will be a bit shorter than my other two stories – Unexpected and Forget Me – but hopefully just as fun.**

 **It takes place after the books (epilogue ignored obviously) and as always, JKR is the owner of a brilliant mind and therefore these compelling characters.**

 **PROLOGUE**

 _1_ _st_ _May, 1998 – The Battle of Hogwarts_

Hogwarts castle had not expected to be awoken after so long lying dormant, but when it did, it was with a slow, almost weary thrumming of energy. It observed the chaos that trickled down every corridor and chamber of its sprawling form and growled with a new anger it hadn't felt in over a century. The flames of protective fury smouldered until the castle felt a surge as it rose into action.

The Death Eaters had attacked mercilessly and the battle was underway. Fragments of stone rained down on those unfortunate enough to be trapped inside its cloistered rooms. And all around spells were being fired like the bursting of brightly coloured festival fireworks.

Hogwarts roared to life with a vengeance that was unparalleled. Stone walls became an impenetrable shield that rose up in protection of its students. Fire flared up from every grate and suits of armour clattered to attention.

And in the depths of the castle's belly, buried in the labyrinthine piles of junk in the Room of Requirement, Hogwarts felt something else stirring. The princess of Gryffindor had returned, and she was in trouble.

Hermione felt her ankle convulse and crumple beneath her. She had been trailing the boys by only a few metres as they sprinted from the flames that had engulfed the Room of Requirement. Crabbe had been foolish and deranged enough to believe that he could control the blaze, but dark magic had a mind of its own. So they had run. Hermione certainly hadn't expected to twist her foot on something and fall to the floor with a sickening smack. Harry and Ron clearly hadn't seen or heard it happen either as they disappeared around a corner and away from her. They were all too busy trying to run for their lives to notice.

She whimpered and clutched at her foot. Immediately, she tried to stand and keep going but the leg just collapsed under her again. Hermione grappled frantically for her wand to cast a healing charm, but before she could get a grip on it, a long winding flame whipped around the corner of a stack of furniture and scorched her. She snapped her hand away, toppling onto her back and clenching her eyes shut in fear of the searing explosion.

This was it, she thought. She was done for. After everything they had been through, she was going to be burned to death because of Vincent bloody Crabbe. Just when they were so close to getting rid of all the horcruxes and finally defeating Voldemort. And she was alone. Her heart pounded as she crawled away from the blaze, her wand lying uselessly a couple of feet away. At least with Fiendfyre it might be quick, she hoped. It wasn't likely any witch or wizard could survive the sinister flames for long.

Hermione made one last desperate reach for her wand just as the fire tore through the pile of couches and desks and launched itself at her. Her fingers managed to wrap around the length of wood, but it was surely too late. Somewhere vaguely in the distance she could hear the two boys yelling her name frantically. Time seemed to slow painfully, as if drawing out the torturous moment of her death to mock and humiliate her even further.

But then a pale hand grasped her arm, just as the terrified ache in her chest was blossoming into a sharp pain. The person wrenched her away from her flames as if she weighed nothing. She blinked in confusion as she was hoisted up onto the person's back as he practically flew up another pile of furniture. He was grasping at the furniture desperately, using it to claw his way higher and higher. The room spun wildly below. At first all she could focus on was an earthy masculine scent of sweat mixed with some kind of rich, dark cologne. But Hermione finally managed to suck in a deep breath of air and focus her bleary gaze on who had saved her from such an undignified, horrific death.

There was no mistaking that blond hair. It was Draco Malfoy.

Hermione gasped audibly. But she held on tighter to his shoulders as if she could draw herself into him for protection. The flames flared up higher. He managed to reach the top of the tall pile of furniture just in time and pulled her up behind her. They both collapsed onto the shaky table top in a heap of trembling limbs and panting breaths. Malfoy was clearly exhausted from heaving her up there, and Hermione was still struggling to recover for her close brush with death and the pain radiating from her rapidly swelling ankle.

"Malfoy-" she stammered hoarsely, choking on the fumes that rose and swirled thickly around them. She pushed herself up onto her elbows to stare at him in disbelief. Her mind was spinning with the implications of what had just happened. He had saved her life. She shook her head in bewilderment, grabbing onto his wrist and squeezing until he met her eye. He finally jerked his head up to return her gaze. He looked even more stunned than her if that was possible. His steely grey eyes were more alive than she had ever seen them. They were swimming with confusion and relief and anger and terror. They darted between hers quickly before sweeping down over her body as if he was reassuring himself that she was unharmed. She swallowed.

"Malfoy-" she repeated, not sure what she could say in response to his unexpected actions. But any words of gratitude or inquiry would have to wait. The flames were licking higher and higher, nearly reaching out to grope at their toes as they clung to the top level of their tower with white knuckles. The fire was actually roaring now, so loud she wasn't even sure if he had heard her say his name. They just continued to stare at each other in horror, and she wondered whether this would be her real last moment alive. Had she really been saved by him just to perish moments later as the inferno engulfed them both? But at least she wasn't alone, she thought with grim satisfaction. Even if it was Malfoy, of all people, she was glad she had someone by her side. Her grip on his wrist tightened, and he turned his hand around unconsciously to clasp hers fiercely in return, although even as he did he looked faintly repelled by the contact.

Hermione could hear her name being screamed from a distance, but as the yelling got closer and closer she could no longer ignore it. She tore her eyes away from Malfoy's to watch as Harry and Ron swept towards them on two battered old broomsticks. Her gut swooped with relief.

"WE'RE HERE!" she shouted out as loud as she could, before inhaling a lungful of smoke and descending into a fit of coughing. The ash burned her throat and she flinched in pain. Her body doubled over as she tried to retch and breathe in. Her eyes watered, blurring her vision. She felt Malfoy wrap a shaky arm around her shoulder and haul her up next to him as he rose carefully to his feet. They were both all too aware of how fragile their tower of furniture was becoming as the flames below consumed it. Finally she had coughed away the worst of the smoke, and lifted her head to look around the room. Malfoy kept his arm around her securely as they steadied each other and found their balance together.

"HURRY!" she yelled as an ominous groaning sounded from their table. Malfoy's grip on her was like a vice, but strangely she felt comforted by it, not disgusted. She really hated broomsticks, her panicked mind reminded her as the boys zoomed in close to them. But she wasn't left with much choice. Before she could plan a clumsy, possibly fatal jump over to where Ron was waiting for her, she felt Malfoy's hands tightening. He grabbed her as if she weighed no more than a quill and tossed her with all his might and accuracy towards the hovering broom. She squealed loudly but managed to seize onto Ron's shoulders and then they were off. Ron certainly didn't waste any time. They were sprinting towards the exit with the hot smoky air whipping their faces before she could even regain her equilibrium.

Hermione felt her head dart back against her will to stare behind them. Her heart thudded as her eyes tried to locate Malfoy. She finally spotted his blond hair as he leapt much more gracefully onto the back of Harry's broom and her friend veered around the follow them. She let out a breath of relief. It was still a close one in the end. The flames pursued them relentlessly, and it was only the door slamming closed that saved them as they all tumbled out onto the floor in a pile of charcoaled limbs and grunts.

Back on solid ground and feeling more confident, Hermione felt her wand fly into her hand as she got to work, her manner brusque and efficient. She healed her broken ankle with an impatient flick before turning to the three boys. They were panting and retching as they regained their breath. She had cleared her lungs with a hasty charm and gave each of them the same treatment.

"Does anyone have any serious burns?" she asked in a soft, urgent voice.

Harry and Ron both shook their heads, but Malfoy was just staring at her like she'd grown an extra head or sprouted antlers. His eyes widened further and his expression turned to one of stunned horror. She found herself trapped in his gaze as her heart thudded to life against her ribs again after their mad dash from the flames when it had surely almost stopped beating altogether. His normally cold gaze was almost feverish, she realised. His blond hair was ruffled and flopping wildly over his forehead and his clothes were in disarray. She had never seen him so untidy. There was a blackened smudge across one cheek and a dripping cut on the other. But her focus was almost entirely on his eyes. The unexpectedly soulful grey eyes with that mad glint smouldering deep within them.

"Oh shit," he whispered hoarsely, almost involuntarily as if he hadn't meant to say anything.

"Malfoy?" she asked, her brow quirking up in confusion at his reaction.

" _Shit, shit, shit_ " he cursed again, and this time he scrambled backwards to put space between them until he was pressed against the wall. Through all this their gazes never wavered. He continued to stare at her and she at him, though his expression grew more and more sickened with every moment. His lip was curling up in distaste, or maybe it was fear. She wasn't sure.

Before she could say anything else, he seemed to blink and pull himself together. Without any warning, Malfoy shot to his feet awkwardly, stumbling over himself in his hurry. He took one last pained look at her and bolted, running down the corridor, around a corner and out of sight.

"What the bloody hell was that all about? Evil git." Ron snorted, shaking his head in bewilderment. Harry looked too dazed and glassy eyed to have even noticed. She suspected he was caught up in another trance as he shared Voldemort's mind. Hermione blinked and shrugged weakly in confusion. He had saved her life. _Malfoy_ had saved her life. She still couldn't believe it had really happened. And neither could he, it seemed. He had looked shocked, as if he had never intended to save her at all. Maybe he had just acted on instinct in the heat of the moment. The look of repulsion he had just given her made it clear he wasn't suffering from some altruistic or heroic change of personality. He seemed appalled at his own behaviour.

Hermione shook her head numbly. There was no time to think about it. They needed to keep going, and from the way Harry was quivering and cradling his scar, she knew they wouldn't be resting for long. She turned back to Ron with a whimsical little smile and another shrug of her shoulders as they both turned their attention back to Harry. But in some distant part of her mind, buried deep in the very core of her magic, she became vaguely aware of a connection forming. It was like a thread tugging at her magic and beckoning her towards something or someone. It wasn't painful or uncomfortable, just a tingling presence at the edge of her consciousness. Hermione didn't know much about this particular area of magic, or how they were even really created, but she was pretty sure that she had just been bound to a Life Debt.

…..

 **Chapter One**

 **October 14** **th** **, 1998**

Hermione gazed around fondly at the dusty walls of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The smell of rotting carpets and unsuccessful cleaning charms was so familiar to her now that she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. It was good to be home, she thought with a wistful smile. Her fingers stroked lovingly across some of the old book titles that lined the walls of the Black family library. They were mostly dark magic texts, but she had come to know them well during their stay here while they were hunting for horcruxes. She had devoured these books, each and every one of them, in her pursuit for information that would shed some light on how to find and destroy the pieces of Voldemort's soul.

The creaky fifth stair groaning under someone's weight was all the warning she got before Harry peeked his head into the room.

"Hey, settled in yet?"

"Almost," she smiled back.

"I see you made yourself at home in the library already…" he commented with a teasing lilt to his voice. Hermione chuckled and threw her arm around his shoulder as he came to stand next to her. He seemed so happy. They'd all had their problems after the battle, of course, but Harry was coping surprisingly well. Even if he did loathe the constant limelight. He couldn't go anywhere without being mobbed by admirers. Eventually he had taken up residence in his godfather's old house just because of the myriad protection spells cloaking its whereabouts. He certainly deserved the privacy. And Ginny visited almost every day even if Molly wouldn't let her stay over yet. Speaking of which…

"Is Ginny here?" Hermione asked curiously, since the house seemed suspiciously silent. Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"Nah, she's stuck under Molly-patrol," he said wryly, "She'll be coming over after she's finished her chores at the Burrow."

Hermione laughed and shook her head. She was looking forward to seeing the youngest Weasley girl who had become her close friend over the years, but it was still nice to catch up quietly with Harry first.

"And Ron?" she enquired in an overly casual voice, trying not to make eye contact with her friend.

"He's working at Hogwarts today."

Hermione winced a bit.

"I'm sorry I didn't stay around long enough to help-" she began, but Harry interrupted.

"It's fine, Hermione, no one blames you. And it's dreadfully boring anyway. McGonagall either puts you on the Rebuilding team, which is just repairing and cleaning big piles of stone or vanishing blood or fixing windows… or if you're really lucky you get stationed in the Hospital Wing helping the survivors."

"How is everyone?" she asked in a shaky voice, knowing that a lot of innocent people were hurt very badly.

"Pomfrey has turned that place into a well-oiled machine. It's part hospital and part therapy centre really. Everyone is receiving the best care she can provide. Ron has been helping out there a lot actually."

"I know," she said quietly, falling silent as they both thought about all the people who had been hurt or maimed in that battle. It had scarred a lot of lives. She felt a swelling of pride and affection for Ron for giving up so much of his time to help them when his family were still dealing with their own grief over Fred's death. She knew George was one of those survivors still in the hospital wing there. He had yet to recover from the death of his twin.

"Let's stop brooding, please," Harry begged with a forced smile as he linked their arms together, "It's so good to see you again and I don't want to spoil it."

Hermione gave him a slightly watery smile.

"I missed you too, Harry," she murmured, leaning into a hug as Harry wrapped his arms around her.

Eventually they both made their way downstairs to the surprisingly clean kitchen. It seemed Kreacher was still popping by occasionally to make Harry's home comfortable. The scruffy haired boy busied himself in the kitchen preparing tea for them both, and Hermione noticed that he remembered exactly how she liked it. She accepted the mug gratefully and sipped at it as they settled down at the table together.

"So…" Harry began with an awkward smile, "Spill. Tell me everything. I got your letters but you were a bit vague-"

"I know. I didn't have a lot of time for writing and I also didn't want to get my hopes up."

Hermione sighed, grimacing and settling back into her chair to begin her story. She had spent the last four months in Australia restoring her parents' memories, and she wasn't sure how to recap all that time in a brief summary for Harry. It had been an emotionally tiring experience, but ultimately a good one.

"Well as I told you in my letters, I eventually managed to find them; they were living and working in a community in the south of Sydney. Once I had reassured myself that they hadn't been damaged either physically or by my magic, I set about trying to reverse the charm. I integrated myself into their lives and kept working at it slowly while building their trust. But it took weeks. I always knew it would be hard but…" she took a sip of her tea and shrugged, "Anyway, it worked. They remembered everything they had lost, as well as all their new memories they had made in Sydney."

Harry whistled softly.

"That's pretty impressive magic, Hermione," he murmured, watching her closely as he drank his own tea.

"It was nothing really," she responded a bit self-consciously, squirming in her seat, "It was just a process of breaking down each barrier without damaging the mind's own psychological defences and then meticulously replanting the original memories."

"Yeh, _nothing_ ," Harry repeated sarcastically, chuckling. Hermione smiled sheepishly too.

"Well, as you can imagine they weren't too happy with me at first. It took a week just to get them to listen to me. I showed them some memories in the pensieve you loaned me – thank you, by the way – and finally they understood. They're still pretty annoyed with me, but they've accepted why I did it. I think partly they're just cross because I put myself in danger and took part in a whole bloody war without them really realising it. They wish they could have protected me."

"That seems fair enough. They love you."

"I know. Ever since I learned about my magic they've always been afraid of the fact that they can't defend me or shield me from danger."

Harry smiled widely, leaning forwards on his chair.

"But still, it sounds like everything went well in the end. Did you bring them back with you side-along or are they catching a plane?"

Hermione felt a little pang of sadness and looked down into the tealeaves swirling indolently to the surface of her mug.

"Neither actually. They…well, uh…once they could remember both their lives, they realised how happy they had been in Australia. They have a new dental practice there and even have a little house near the beach. It's quite beautiful, actually. Mum is in a cooking class and dad is the member of some fancy golf club."

She saw Harry frown and lean back.

"They've decided to stay there…?" he asked gently.

She sighed.

"Yeh. I'm happy for them. They seem to have a really good life there. I'm just going to miss them. It's so much harder to apparate long distances, so I won't see them as much. They tried to convince me to stay in Australia with them but…well, my whole life is here."

Harry smiled softly and reached over to squeeze her hand.

"At least they're safe. From what I've heard lately from Kingsley and the other aurors it sounds like you really did save their lives. A lot of parents of muggleborns were killed in that last year."

Hermione took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. She drained her tea at the same time as Harry and they relaxed a bit.

"So, now that you have returned to us _finally_ , oh brainy princess of Gryffindor, what's your big plan?"

Hermione laughed and shrugged.

"I'm not entirely sure. I'll have to find an apartment soon…"

"You can stay here as long as you like! It'll be nice to have some company," Harry reassured her quickly.

"That sounds perfect, thank you," she replied gratefully, feeling one small weight lift off her shoulders, "Then I suppose I'll try help at Hogwarts until the school can reopen and I can take my NEWTs. I know you and Ron are keen to get straight to work and they said you don't need your exams, but I still think I'd like to do them, just for the satisfaction of finishing my schooling."

"We both figured that you would," Harry agreed with a nod.

"Am I that predictable?" she laughed.

"Sometimes," he gave her a wry, cheeky little smile.

"Well you can't blame me. I want to show everyone that I'm not just your muggleborn sidekick or a freak. I'm going to get a big heap of Outstandings in every subject and show them what I'm really capable of…"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise at her words.

"Wow," he muttered softly, "I've never heard you sound so…er…self-assured. You're going to take the wizarding world by storm, Hermione. You're everything the Death Eaters despised."

Hermione chuckled, feeling that familiar tickle at the back of her mind at the mention of the Death Eaters. She took a deep breath and then met Harry's eyes more seriously.

"Actually, Harry, there's something else I think I might do as well now that I'm back."

Harry raised his brows questioningly at her solemn demeanour. She squirmed self-consciously, tracing her fingers over the patterns in the wooden table top.

"I think I'm going to track down Malfoy. These last few months in Australia I've been thinking about it. About him. And I want to talk to him about what happened in the Room of Requirement."

Harry visibly swallowed and gave her a wide-eyed look.

"Uh…Hermione, he's not-"

Hermione frowned and interrupted him.

"Don't start Harry. I _know_ you hate him, but Malfoy saved my life. I need to talk to him. I want to thank him."

Harry shook his head with a sheepish smile.

"No, it's not that. I mean, I really don't _like_ him, but after everything that went down, I think maybe he was just as much a victim as any of us."

Hermione nodded in agreement, but watched as Harry's scowl darkened a bit.

"But…you still can't go and see him," he continued slowly.

She felt her gut clench a little with anxiety that settled deep in the pit of her stomach.

"Why not?"

He didn't answer for a moment, looking nervous as he rubbed his nose.

"Harry? Why not?"

He squirmed uncomfortably,

"You really didn't hear?" he asked. Hermione shook her head, feeling her anxiety bloom and grow into fear. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. He leaned forwards with his elbows resting on the table between them, looking suddenly cross. Hermione waited breathlessly for him to continue.

"Malfoy's in Azkaban."

Her whole body froze in shock. She hadn't been expecting that.

" _What? Why?_ " she spluttered, rising to her feet with a jolt even though her legs were suddenly numb underneath her. Harry let out a slow breath.

"Since Lucius died in the battle, the Magical Law Enforcement prosecutors have been going after any kind of Malfoy blood that they can get their hands on, to repay the crimes of the father, so to speak."

"But Malfoy was just a child, like us… he never willingly did anything, it was all under duress."

"I know, I tried to vouch for him, but they didn't want to hear it. But then again, since when has the Ministry listened to me when it didn't suit their own agenda?"

Hermione was outraged. She felt her fists clench tightly until the round, manicured beds of her nails dug painfully into her palms. Against her conscious will she started to pace back and forth across the kitchen floor.

"But…he didn't…I was…how long?" she finally asked.

"He was arrested around the beginning of August. He's been imprisoned ever since. The trial is supposed to begin sometime in November."

Hermione closed her eyes. She put her hand on her forehead as a headache began to form, throbbing at the back of her sinuses.

"What are we going to do?"

Harry blinked in surprise.

"Er…what?"

Hermione spun to face him directly.

"We have to help!"

Her friend just looked at her with a dumbfounded expression.

"Narcissa has hired the most snooty lawyer in Britain, Hermione. I'm sure he'll be just fine. Anyway, I doubt they'd _want_ our help."

She shook her head, feeling that tickling of magic at the edge of her senses again.

"No. That's not good enough. I'm going to go see him," she said firmly. Harry rolled his eyes.

"You can't visit him. He's in Azkaban," he said slowly, deliberately as if she wasn't really listening to him, "You don't just get to walk in to a place like that. Even his own mother isn't allowed to see him."

Hermione's mind raced for a few moments as her pacing stopped. She paused on the threshold of a huge decision, wondering whether she should jump off the precipice into total madness. Eventually she raised her eyes to look at Harry and she could tell that he already knew what she was going to say. She took a deep, shaky breath and folded her arms protectively in front of her.

"Just watch me."

….

 **Well that's my first chapter! I've set up the basic premise of the narrative and I'm super keen to hear what you think. Where do you think this is going? As always I have a vague outline in my head but I am open to persuasion… Thanks for reading and please review to inspire me to continue this one!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 **Hello fabulous readers. Thank you for the wonderful response to the first chapter - it's great to see so much interest in my new idea! In response to all your questions, I will only say that I can promise all answers will be revealed in time. Be patient. This is a very quick update but I'm not sure I can sustain this frequency. I will try to be fairly regular.**

 **Now, I think it's time for some Draco/Hermione interaction! As always, JKR is the owner of this work and our hearts!**

Hermione could feel her palms starting to sweat as she stepped out into the annex of the guard tower at Azkaban. The green flames from the floo network roared around her as she spun into the cold, grey room. She sent a brief prayer of thanks that there were no more dementors guarding the island prison. She would have been much too afraid to come here if that were still the case. They had been outlawed and banished from Azkaban after the war for siding with Voldemort, and now only trained law-enforcement wizards manned the prison.

That didn't mean she wasn't still nervous as hell. Hermione shook the soot from her clothes and wrapped her coat around her more snugly. It really was freezing here, even without the dementors.

Lifting her gaze to the occupants of the room, she watched cautiously as the warden of the prison approached her. He didn't look too happy, but she was hardly surprised. She had certainly become a thorn in his side the last few days.

It had taken all her skills of persuasion, or in other words all her nagging of the highest ministry officials to finally be given special permission to enter the prisoner as a visitor. She was wearing a special badge pinned to her jacket that had been given to her by the minister of magic himself. It helped to have a personal connection to Shacklebolt through the Order of the Phoenix. As far as she knew, no civilian was ever allowed entrance into Azkaban to visit a prisoner. Only legal officers and guards made contact with the inmates. But not everyone was the famous muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter; Saviour of the Wizarding World. Hermione had to pester people for days, but it helped that she was considered special and had powerful allies. And that she had basically agreed to become a sort of legal aid to the Malfoy heir to give her visit some legitimacy. She was trying not to even think about the consequences of that particular deal.

Denis Friedman held out his hand for her to shake, an angry muscle twitching at his temple. He clearly wasn't one for small talk, as he jabbed his finger in the direction of a damp staircase and grunted at her to follow him. They seemed to wind through ominous, rickety passages for hours before they finally arrived at a tall wooden door palpably thrumming with magic. Friedman halted abruptly in front of her and she almost ran into the back of him. He turned to look at her, his face curling up bitterly as his eyes swept over her tight muggle jeans and fur-lined boots. She certainly didn't look like an influential or powerful witch, she supposed, as she fiddled nervously with the end of one of her plaits.

"Wand please."

Hermione jumped and hurried to hand over her wand, watching in dismay as the sweaty, very straight-backed man slipped it into a pocket in his robes. She felt far too exposed without it.

"Prisoner 1538 is in an interview room beyond this door. You will have half an hour. No more. If you want to leave sooner than that you will knock on the door three times and it will be opened for you. When you entered the prison earlier you passed through a dangerous device detector so we are already aware that you have not smuggled anything prohibited into the prisoner. So consider this a warning for any future visits. 1538 has wards binding him from using any wandless or impulsive magic so you should be safe from any physical danger."

He stopped speaking rather curtly, gesturing with a jerk of one hand for her to proceed through the door. She hesitated.

"Uh…thank you Mister Friedman," she said in a polite, albeit shaky voice. Then there was nothing stopping her from entering the room where Draco Malfoy was waiting for her. She wondered briefly whether he had been informed who his visitor was. Realising that she could procrastinate no more, Hermione squared her shoulders and rallied up every inch of courage she could find. She pushed the door open and stepped into the room as it boomed shut behind her like a foreboding note of warning.

It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the much dimmer candle lighting in this room. It was far too chilly, even for her rugged-up attire, and she wished she still had her wand to cast some warming charms. Really, it couldn't have been too troublesome for the man to simply spell the room himself to make her visit more comfortable. She sighed and stepped further into the small, square chamber until she could get a closer look at the figure hunched over the table in the centre.

Even in the dim light there was no mistaking that hair; although it had certainly seen better days. It was practically ragged and definitely not the pale, silky colour she remembered. It was dirty and matted and her fingers itched to smooth it down in places where it was most chaotic.

She couldn't see his face, since his head was drooped and hanging down, his forehead almost pressed against the tabletop. He was wearing a thick flannel robe in a sickly grey colour that hung loosely off his thin frame. Malfoy had always been slender, but from what she could see he looked positively skeletal. He still hadn't raised his head at all and didn't seem to even notice that she was in the room.

"M…Malfoy?" she stammered a bit self-consciously, feeling suddenly foolish and not sure what she was supposed to say to him. She waited an excruciatingly long time for him to react. But eventually he lifted his head just slightly to peer up at her through hooded eyes. They were sunken and seemed almost darker than their usual steely colour. He looked like some kind of wraith, she thought with a sharp pang of anguish. His skin was pallid and his lips cracked and broken from the cold air.

And he was staring at her like she was a ghost.

Slowly, she became aware of a manic sound and realised it was coming from him. As he stared up at her he had begun to chuckle quietly to himself. It was a hoarse, grating sound that soon escalated until he was actually laughing aloud. He threw his head back, eyes glistening with deranged mirth as he roared. Hermione was stunned. She wasn't sure what to do or say in response to this crazed behaviour so she just waited until he calmed down, sinking into the seat opposite him at the table.

It took a while for him to get control over himself again and stop laughing. He wiped at the wet tracks of his tears on his cheeks with emaciated, spindly fingers.

"Bloody hell… I've had some pretty wild hallucinations but this one really takes the cake! Hermione fucking Granger!" he chuckled in a croaked voice at last, his speech diminished and throaty from lack of use, "It seems I've finally lost it."

Hermione frowned, her brows drawing together in confusion at his words. So he thought she didn't really exist outside his imagination? That was…worrying.

"Malfoy, you're not mad, I've come to visit you-"

"You even sound like her!" he sneered, his cackling descending occasionally into fits of coughing.

"I _am_ her!" she insisted, growing increasingly anxious about Malfoy's mental state, "You're not imagining this. Just look at me."

Malfoy reluctantly focused his bleary eyes on her, blinking rapidly.

"You do certainly look like Hermione Granger. But that's ridiculous," he burst into another fit of laughter, but this time his wheezing coughs overwhelmed him and he stopped abruptly.

"What can I say to convince you I'm not a hallucination?" she asked slowly, considering him carefully.

Malfoy sobered and twitched uncomfortably in the stiff, wooden chair. She noticed how he used one hand to furiously scratch at the other as if there was something crawling on his skin. Looking around at the squalor of what was probably one of the better rooms in the prison, she wouldn't be surprised if there _was_ something crawling on his skin. The whole place had an air of decay and disease about it.

"Ha!" he huffed out in response, "I'm not stupid you know!" his voice rose until he was almost yelling, spit frothing up and flying from his mouth, "I'm going mad, aren't I? I keep seeing things and hearing things…. And now stuck-up mudblood Granger has appeared like a bloody mirage to throw it all right back in my face!"

"Don't use that word," she snapped, unprepared for hearing it after all this time away from the wizarding world. She had forgotten how much it hurt. But he just groaned deeply, tugging at his hair and trembling.

"Damn, this one's much more realistic than any of the others, you're even scolding me!"

"I'm not a bloody figment of your imagination, Malfoy!"

He seemed to ignore her again, widening his eyes as he drank in her appearance again, from her tightly bound curls right down to her warm muggle clothes.

"I should have known I'd dream about you eventually. You've been in my head for months…taunting me…"

Hermione blinked in stunned surprise at his words. He was absolutely determined to wallow in his madness and she only had so much time allotted to visit him today. She quite literally didn't have time for this. So without further ado, she reached impatiently across the table and grasped his hand. She held onto it tightly, screwing her nose up in disgust at the thought of what germs he could be riddled with, especially if the stench was anything to go by. As expected, he tried to jerk back in horror, but she held on tightly, hoping her gamble would pay off. His eyes were round and penetrating as he stared at her, flickering down to their joined hands and back with the dawning of realisation. She could feel a shudder pass through his entire body at the contact, and she leaned forwards earnestly to push her advantage.

"Do your hallucinations usually touch you?" she asked in a quiet, serious voice.

"No," he muttered quietly, looking both dismayed and awed all at once. His rattling breaths quickened until he was panting, "But…you can't…you're not really here… _are you_?"

Shivering a bit in distaste at the feel of it, Hermione squeezed his grimy, dirt-crusted hand gently. He felt the action and his eyes dropped to stare at where they were connected, apparently incapable of coherent speech. She certainly hadn't planned to accost him and hold onto his hand like she was a family member or loved one, but she just couldn't help herself. He looked so completely… broken. Her chest actually burned her as it clenched with a surge of compassion.

"I _am_ really here. You're not imagining this," she insisted again, softly. He shook his head a bit as if he were going to deny it, but seemed to change his mind when she squeezed his hand one more time. Hermione pressed her fingers decisively around his before she withdrew her hold altogether. As she discreetly wiped her now dirty hand on her jeans under the table, she watched curiously as he jerked his hand forwards as if to follow her and regain the warmth of their contact. She winced a bit. He was clearly craving any kind of human touch, and the ache in her chest intensified.

"If you're not a hallucination, then you must be using polyjuice or some kind of dark charm to disguise your true identity! Granger would never come here willingly."

She sighed, her anxiety growing with every new paranoia he expressed.

"They have all sorts of charms here to detect illusions and enchantments. It's simply not possible to fool them."

"So you say," he sneered, looking her up and down distrustfully, before quirking up one brow under his matted hair, "Alright, if you really are mudbl… _Hermione_ Granger…then tell me something that only she would know!"

Hermione pursed her lips and considered him for a long moment. He looked faintly nauseous, or maybe dizzy from sitting upright in one place for so long. Breathing out heavily, she fiddled with one of her plaits.

"Okay," she agreed slowly, thinking about it, before her lips stretched into a smug smile, "in our third year you were gloating about Buckbeak being executed and how pathetic Hagrid was, so I slapped you right across your stupid, arrogant face. It was very satisfying. I would most likely have hexed you too if the boys hadn't stopped me."

Malfoy stared at her agape for a few moments, before he scowled and scratched at his scalp. When his hand came away there was quite a lot of hair tugged out.

"Damn…" he muttered with a furious glint in his eye, "I wish you had been a fucking hallucination!"

"Sorry to disappoint," she retorted dryly.

Before he could add anything, his expression murderous, she noticed something red and angry on his fingers. She reached forward to flip his hand over to get a good look at it, and felt him shiver again at the contact. She realised it was his fingernails. They were blistered and crusted with dried blood. As if he has worn them down scratching at something; most likely the cold, stone wall of his cell. When he realised the direction of her sympathetic gaze, he tore his hand away from her, hiding it under the table. There was a brief, awkward silence between them.

"Oh Malfoy," she sighed eventually, "What have they done to you?"

A closed, almost defensive look immediately swept across his gaze.

"Nothing," he whispered, cringing, "They've done _nothing_ to me."

She frowned.

"But, you look…um, well…you're so…"

She wanted to say that he looked like a man starved, beaten, tortured. She assumed from his behaviour that he was terrified and recoiling as if she would hurt him. She assumed from his whole appearance that he had been mistreated physically somehow. Had the guards been too rough with him? But his face shut down and darkened until she was the one shivering.

"I mean it. They. Have. Done. _Nothing_ …" he growled each word insistently, with emphasis on each one, "I haven't spoken to anyone. I haven't even seen anyone in months. At least I assume it's been months. I have no way of keeping track of the time except scratching it onto the wall of my cell. But it's hard sometimes to know when one day leads into the next."

"They haven't hurt you?" she asked with an edge of relief in her voice.

"They haven't even acknowledged my existence," he spat immediately in response, still looking rather dazed. And she could tell from the expression painted on his face that this was so much worse. It truly looked like he would have welcomed a beating, just to occupy his time or give him some form of interaction with another living soul. He continued more fiercely now, "The food gets put through a hole in my door twice a day. It's sent there by a charm, not even a fucking person. Every day I'm trapped in there, alone with just my thoughts. There are no books, no exercise, no conversations or… _anything._ I've just been stuck with my own haunted memories and demons. For MONTHS," he sobbed involuntarily and she saw him clench his hands tightly, where she had touched him.

"Have you hallucinated a lot?" she asked him warily, starting to see why he had been so confused when she first arrived.

"There's not much else to do to pass the time," he drawled, clearly shaken. His hands were trembling violently, "I'm still not entirely convinced that you're _not_ a mirage…" he trailed off and glared at her as if trying to see through some kind of illusion that had been sent here to torture him even more.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, not really knowing what else to say, "Do you get to…uh…clean yourself or use some kind of bathroom facility?"

Draco sneered darkly at her. But underneath his hostility she recognised a slight flush to his cheeks that showed her how embarrassed he was.

"Why don't you just mind your own business!" he spat, and Hermione held up her hands apologetically in a gesture of goodwill. His look of humiliation combined with his aggressive response had clearly revealed to her just how grim the hygiene really was here. To be honest she was half glad he had refused to answer her. It was probably better if she didn't know.

"Okay, it's alright," she said, placating him, "I'll talk to Kingsley or someone and try to-"

"Why are you here?" he whispered harshly, interrupting her. His croaking voice was very sullen but his hands still twitched towards her as if missing the touch of her skin against his.

"I told you. I wanted to see you."

" _Why_?"

"You shouldn't be in here. This is wrong," she spoke passionately, but couldn't seem to meet his eye. She felt a terrible rolling of guilt sicken her stomach. She should have come sooner.

"Why now? I've been here for months…" his voice cracked at the end and he lowered his head in shame. She could tell he hated sounding so desperate. She smiled pathetically, feeling strangely inadequate. If she was the first person that he'd seen in months then she must be a bitter disappointment. He would probably prefer to see literally _anyone_ else before her.

"I didn't know. Harry only just told me a couple of days ago."

Malfoy scowled and leaned forwards himself, his eyes suddenly sharp and accusing. His mind had certainly cleared quickly. Maybe just being in the presence of another human being was like a balm to his madness after so long in isolation.

"I highly doubt this wasn't splashed all over the papers, _Granger_ ," he spat her name just like he always used to, and Hermione shivered a bit at the thought that maybe she had overestimated him. But there was no denying the slight softening of his gaze or the desperateness of his posture as he rocked towards her unconsciously.

"I've been away," she admitted very quietly, shrugging her shoulders and knowing that no excuse would be good enough for him. Not when his life had been ruined so completely.

"Where?" he growled, his curiosity insatiable as it became painted all over his features. He rocked towards her again, unable to sit still.

"Australia," she said, watching as his confusion grew, so she continued hurriedly, "I distorted my parents' memories and sent them there during the war. I needed to find them and restore their minds to their former state."

Malfoy stared at her for an endless moment. She didn't want to elaborate, not with him. It was her private story to tell and honestly it wasn't relevant to his situation. Eventually he sneered and twisted his fingers together in an unconscious gesture.

"Smart little know-it-all aren't you?" he spat, making her ire stir a little. He had always been rather cruel to her at school, but she had hoped that he would have changed after everything that happened. Before she could retort or get cross with him, she took a moment to observe him quietly. Even though his words had sounded nasty, he was looking strangely remorseful, even admiring of her. His hair was flopping down over his eyes, but they flickered up to meet hers nervously. Well, she supposed that he had called her _smart,_ even if his tone had been scornful.

"I thought so, yes," she agreed coolly. Before she could add anything else, he was gripped by a sudden, violent coughing fit. He hunched over on himself, his throat rattling. He sounded like he was on death's doorstep. Without really pausing to think about it, Hermione whipped out her handkerchief and offered it to him. Draco stared at it suspiciously as if it would bite him.

"Take it," she urged, and he finally relented when the coughing turned to retching. She was pretty sure when he held the material up to his mouth that the white cotton became flecked with blood.

Once the coughing had subsided at last, he looked down at her handkerchief awkwardly. It had been a dainty little blue and white piece of material with her initials embroidered into it; a gift from her mother at the end of fifth year. Without her wand to cast a cleaning charm, she was reluctant to take it back. And she had a whole set at home anyway.

"Keep it," she offered under her breath, and he nodded silently without meeting her eye and slipped it into a fold in his loose grey robe.

"Granger," he began in a voice turned even more gravelly from his wracking coughs, "Did you really come here just to tell me you feel bad? How did you even get in to see me?"

She shrugged, her lips tugging into a slight smirk.

"I'm Hermione Granger, I have my ways…" she said in a teasing tone, but he didn't rise to the bait. He stayed quiet, looking pointedly at her and waiting for her to answer his other question. She sighed, "Fine. I…I don't agree with what's happened to you. I think it's despicable, actually. I made a deal to be appointed as a legal aid, and I have a free pass from the minister himself for access to the prison to visit you."

"You're going to be my legal aid?" he repeated slowly, with a slight frown on his face.

"Yes. Is that really so surprising?"

"It is," he muttered, but she shook her head furiously in denial, feeling her plaits bouncing gently against her neck.

"You saved my life," she whispered.

He was silent for a very long time after that, and her heart pounded against her ribs as she waited. She had always heard and read horrible clichés about the fear that one's heart could beat so loudly that it was audible to others. But now she wasn't so sure it was that outlandish. It was certainly thrumming in her eardrums loud enough to split through the quiet room like a thunderous pulse.

The only other sound she was aware of was the haunting moan of the wind battering the side of the enormous building. He seemed to be struggling with something, because his eyes glistened suspiciously and he was rocking back and forth in his chair more violently than before. The scratching had started again, and she looked down to see that the skin on his hand and wrist was almost raw, angry and red. She stared at it in puzzlement until she realized what he was doing. He was clawing at the Dark Mark, which was faded but still burned onto his forearm. Maybe he thought if he scratched hard enough he could get rid of it. The thought made her shudder with barely concealed pity.

It seemed like hours later that he finally took a deep, rasping breath. She raised her eyes to his again and what she saw made her grit her teeth to stop from sobbing. His expression was one of desolation. He looked as if he had lost all hope. And in that moment she realised just how much he had changed, because any trace of pride was gone from his face.

His stare pierced hers as he moaned the words that nearly made her lose the battle with herself and shed her own tears for him.

" _Help me._ "

Before she could even start to formulate a response to his plea, the door behind her creaked and groaned as it was pushed open by rough hands. Had it really been half an hour? She swivelled her head around and saw a guard standing there waiting expectantly. Cursing under her breath she turned back to see Malfoy looking terrified and dejected as he stared down at the floor. Her heart skipped.

"I'll come back. As soon as I can. I promise," she murmured urgently, leaning close to him so the guard wouldn't overhear. The bulky man cleared his throat impatiently and she groaned in frustration. Malfoy still wouldn't meet her eye.

"I _promise…_ I will be back," she repeated fervently and he finally lifted his gaze again.

"Please," he croaked simply, looking more desperate than she had ever seen him. With a terse nod of assurance, she stood and made her way to the door, her legs feeling clammy and weak beneath her. Just before she reached the door he called out again in a guttural voice.

"Granger!" she spun to look at him. He was gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles and his face was ashen white, "My mother…she…can you go…"

He didn't seem capable of completing his sentence, but Hermione nodded quickly.

"It's alright. I'll pay her a visit. She's doing everything she can from the outside to help you."

He collapsed back into his chair in relief.

"She's all alone," he croaked. He was shaking again as if some residual warmth from her presence had been sucked from the room as she rose to leave.

Hermione took a deep breath, knowing on some level that she had tied herself to his fate, as the tingle of their Life Debt echoed in the back of her mind.

"Not anymore," she said with quiet confidence, giving him one last look of compassion before she swept from the room. The door was wrenched shut by the guard behind her.

It was time she got to work, Hermione thought with a kind of familiar swelling of determination that she hadn't felt in a long time. She strode back down the gloomy passageway, her footfalls firm and driven by a deep, burning anger. There was no time to waste.

….

 **Second chapter done! I think the next one is going to be really long. I have so many more characters to introduce; Narcissa and Ron especially. Please leave gorgeous reviews to motivate my lazy ass to write quicker and post sooner!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

 **Okay back with another chapter – this one a bit longer! Some old faces re-introduced here and also more interaction between our two lovely protagonists. As always, JKR writes yummy stories.**

 **...**

To say that things had been awkward at first between Hermione and Narcissa Malfoy was an understatement. She had visited the woman earlier that day and the tension in the room had been palpable. Just like her son, the Malfoy matriarch seemed very suspicious and mistrusting of Hermione's desire to get involved in the situation. And she made her hostility all too clear.

"Miss Granger," she had sneered after listening to Hermione describing the anger she felt about Draco's imprisonment with obvious impatience, "I have hired the best lawyers that money can buy. You are just one naïve, albeit slightly famous, young witch. You haven't even finished school. How exactly do you expect to be able to help us?"

Hermione had swallowed, brushing away any self-doubt she may have been feeling, and rallied her confidence. She looked Narcissa straight in the eye and squared her shoulders.

"Because I've already accomplished what none of your fancy lawyers could do for you…" Narcissa's eyes had widened with surprise, curious for the first time since she had entered the manor that morning, "I saw your son yesterday at Azkaban. In the flesh."

All traces of animosity had immediately vanished from the cold woman's countenance.

"You saw Draco? You spoke to him?" she asked in a desperate whisper. Hermione nodded, not letting her Gryffindor bravery falter for one second. Despite her stern façade the older woman clearly loved her son fiercely.

"I was given a special allowance to visit him. We spoke in private for about half an hour."

Narcissa rose from her where she had been sitting regally, pretending to be disinterested, and now strode towards her with a strange gleam in her eye that looked eerily like an unshed tear.

"You saw _my_ Draco?" she repeated a bit shakily, "Is he alright?"

Hermione had pursed her lips at this point and debated how much to reveal to the austere woman. But seeing the love shining from her eyes Hermione knew it would be wrong to lie to her or withhold the whole truth. And she wasn't that cruel. Even if she did still hold resentment for what had been done to her in this very manor during the war, she couldn't deceive any distraught mother.

"I'm not going to pretend he's fine," Hermione murmured as compassionately and gently as she could, "Because he's not. They're keeping him in the most reprehensible conditions. He is thin and weak and…uh…slightly mad, to be perfectly honest. But he's alive and has not been tortured in any way other than neglect."

Narcissa's bottom lip quivered and she raised one bony but elegant hand to press against it, stemming the sob that clearly wanted to escape. Her eyes were round and glassy and were staring unseeingly at some invisible spot on the wall behind them.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered uncomfortably, not really knowing how to console a woman who held nothing but distaste for her. Finally Narcissa had raised her eyes with dawning realisation.

"No, I'm sorry," the blonde woman croaked, frowning, "I should not have judged you so quickly. I only really know you from what Draco used to tell us when you were both at school together-"

"Which I'm sure was quite unflattering," Hermione finished dryly and the woman nodded in confirmation.

"The only other references I have for your character come from either that gossiping fraud Rita Skeeter, or from when you were brought here…during…"

Narcissa trailed off, but Hermione knew only too well to what she was referring. The other woman was hardly likely to forget how she had screamed and writhed on their drawing room floor being tortured by her insane sister Bellatrix.

"It must have been difficult for you to return here," the woman added with a slight purse of her lips, "…thank you. Just knowing for certain that he is still alive brings me great relief."

Hermione nodded. She twisted her fingers together a bit nervously.

"He mentioned you. Just as I was leaving, he asked me to come here."

"Oh," Narcissa exclaimed, nodded quickly, "What did he say?"

She shrugged.

"He wanted to make sure you weren't alone," Hermione felt very strange speaking about such a personal topic with a woman she barely knew, and who seemed so haughty and serious. But even as she thought this, Narcissa seemed to thaw a bit right in front of her eyes.

"Yes, that sounds like him," she murmured quietly to herself.

At this point in the morning, Narcissa had seemed to gather herself and remember that she was playing hostess to a now unexpectedly welcome guest. She had offered Hermione some tea and the Gryffindor girl had agreed, although she was still incredibly self-conscious around the aristocratic woman. But the other woman appeared to put all differences aside in pursuit of helping her son, and their behaviour towards each other became increasingly cordial. By the time Hermione left the manor they had spent hours in each other's company with minimal clumsy silences or opposition. In fact, Narcissa was perfectly kind to her and was a good conversationalist. They swapped stories of the last few months, and the older woman explained the situation with Draco's defence team. Hermione got the impression that they were expensive and effective at manipulating the law, but not particularly friendly. She in turn described her visit to Australia and the delay in coming to Malfoy's aid. Narcissa seemed rather impressed with her charm work in restoring her parent's memories. She confessed that she had been most fond of charms at school herself. Hermione left with a skip in her step, feeling brighter about her role in helping Malfoy, and with a whole new set of goals for her next visit that the two women had discussed.

She returned to Grimmauld place after stopping briefly to pick up some Chinese food to share with Harry since it was her turn to provide dinner tonight. When she arrived at the hidden London residence and crept through the main hall past the muffled portrait of Mrs. Black, Hermione could hear voices chatting casually from the kitchen. She hung her coat up and entered the room with a slight twinge of trepidation, recognising the second voice.

His back was facing her when she came through, but she could clearly see Harry who gave her a warm, reassuring smile that restored some of her confidence. The other, ginger-haired boy swivelled in his seat to look at her and his face broke into a happy grin.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed in pleased surprise. He jumped to his feet and, putting aside the nervous flutter in her stomach, they embraced each other firmly.

"Hi Ron," she said with an equally bright, if a little forced, smile. She held up the bag of takeaway food and shook it temptingly, "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Sure! I mean…if that's alright with you…" he responded uncertainly and she just smiled again and nodded. Quickly brushing past both boys, Hermione raced around the kitchen grabbing plates and cutlery and setting up dinner for the three of them at the table. She took a few deliberate, deep breaths while her back was turned. When she had readied everything at the table, they sat down together with a brief pause and smiled sheepishly at each other as all the memories of previous meals at Grimmauld Place came swimming back.

"Harry told me about your trip. I'm really glad your parents are alright and you could return their memories…" Ron said in a soft, affectionate voice. She felt a more genuine smile stretch at her lips, immediately relaxing in his company once more. She had forgotten how easy it could be.

"Yeh, I wasn't sure if I could do it when I first arrived…but everything worked out in the end."

He nodded quickly as they began to open up the various boxes and containers of delicious smelling food. Harry instantly started to dig into the fried rice.

"I'm sorry they didn't come back," the ginger boy added awkwardly, but Hermione was touched by his effort; he had never been good at talking about emotional things.

"Thanks, Ron," she said softly as they all started to dig in. She slapped Harry's hand away from the rice before he could take too much but he just gave her a cheeky wink. They ate quietly for a few moments, none of them really certain what they should say since they hadn't been together like this, just the three of them, for so long. Eventually Harry broke the silence.

"So how did today go?" he asked her with a slight shrug, but the curiosity in his gaze belied his casual tone.

"It went…much better than I expected. I actually rather _like_ her," she said thoughtfully after swallowing a mouthful of deep fried duck.

"Really?" he asked with a degree of astonishment.

"I know, I was shocked! It turns out Narcissa Malfoy is not such a dragon lady after all. She was very warm and…um…hospitable. We talked for hours."

Ron's eyes darted up in surprise.

"You went to the manor?" he asked with obvious concern. She saw his eyes flicker down to her concealed forearm where that ugly word was still carved into her.

"It's not the same there now, I think," she said slowly, just realising herself that it hadn't been as hard as she thought it would be to revisit the scene of her torture, "It's lighter and cleaner and…well it just didn't feel like the same place as it was back then."

"Makes sense," Harry commented with a nod, "No more Death Eaters living there or using it as some kind of evil base. Makes a difference, right?"

"Exactly. It's just Narcissa living there now. It was kind of lonely, actually."

Ron nodded too, his eyes darting between them.

"Harry said you were going to help Malfoy with his trial…" he said a bit hesitantly, obviously not sure what she felt about it right now.

"Did you and Harry just sit here all day gossiping about me?" she joked, her lips tugging up into a teasing smile. Harry chuckled.

"Don't let it go to your head," he warned in a mock serious voice. The three of them laughed, and for a moment it felt like old times.

"Yes, Ron, I plan on helping him with his trial," she acknowledged eventually after another mouthful of duck, "I don't think it's fair what happened to him and if he's stuck in that prison much longer he could get really ill or even die. It's appalling there."

Ron nodded slowly, watching her with eyes that were far older and more serious than she ever remembered. He had certainly grown up a lot these last few months in her absence. She supposed losing a brother and seeing another brother broken and destroyed as a result would change anyone.

"You always did stick up for the downtrodden or persecuted. Anyone remember _spew_?"

"S.P.E.W, Ron!" she corrected with a fond laugh, "And I suppose you're right. But it's certainly not the only reason…"

She trailed off with an awkward shrug, but Ron proved his growing maturity once again with an alarming degree of insight.

"You want to repay him for saving your life? In the Room of Requirement…" he suggested in a small voice and she nodded, surprised at his astute observation.

"Yes," she replied simply and he nodded in agreement.

"Well…you know Malfoy is far from my favourite person. I still think he's a slimy git. But if you need any help…" he trailed off with a sheepish smile. Hermione could already feel her throat closing slightly with a wave of emotion that she couldn't define. Mostly it was gratitude, but there was a hint of relief in there too. She hadn't been sure how he would react to her new mission.

"Thank you, Ron," she croaked softly, and felt Harry place his hand on her arm gently on her other side.

They fell into much easier conversation then, now that one of the elephants in the room had been dealt with. Hermione regaled them with tales of what Australia was like, and the boys caught her up on gossip with the ministry and Hogwarts. She was sad to hear about the many survivors still suffering in the Hospital Wing at the school. While most of the physical injuries had been dealt with long ago, the emotional and psychological ones were much more difficult to treat. Harry cleared his throat and squirmed in his seat at this topic of conversation.

"How's George doing?" he asked, and Hermione knew with a grim certainty that the poor boy still blamed himself for pretty much every death in that battle. No matter how many times his friends told him that it was a ridiculous and unfair burden to feel, he still felt the sting of survivor's guilt from being the notorious Chosen One. He saw himself as having been responsible for destroying Voldemort, and therefore every death was only proof that he didn't accomplish his quest soon enough to save them.

"Better," Ron answered, though his face had darkened considerably, "He still doesn't talk much, but today Angelina and Katie Bell came to see him and that seemed to cheer him up. He actually strung some sentences together without falling apart."

Hermione felt a deep ache bloom in her chest. She couldn't imagine what the Weasley family had been going through. She wished she could have been here to help them.

"Well…that's good then, I suppose," Harry said, though his voice was quite flat and his face had gone a bit pale. Rallying himself, his eyes flickered uncertainly before he continued, "And how's Lavender?"

Ron cleared his throat and shifted nervously in his seat. Hermione blinked in confusion. She had almost forgotten that Lavender was still at Hogwarts. She had a vivid memory of the girl being attacked by Fenrir Greyback during the final battle, and she could also recall firing a furious spell in the werewolf's direction when they had discovered him starting to feast on her writhing body. But she hadn't realised that the girl had needed to spend so long in recovery.

"She's doing alright, actually," he frowned and glanced a bit guiltily at Hermione. Her brows rose in surprise at the look, before he continued, "In fact, we've been spending a lot of time together the last few weeks."

Hermione swallowed and fiddled with her chopsticks when she realised what he was getting at. Distantly she heard Harry choke on a prawn just as Ron nervously started to rant.

"She changed a lot in that last year we were on the run. She's grown up heaps. And getting over her injury…well, let's just say I can understand what she's going through after seeing the same thing happen to Bill. She was really lucky Greyback wasn't transformed when he bit her, but she still gets some of the symptoms. We've been talking lots and just hanging out…"

Hermione forced a smile on her face and saw Harry do the same. But for a brief moment they exchanged a glance, as if warning the other to stay quiet and not make a fuss. She was sure they would discuss it later once Ron had left. For now she just wanted to get through dinner and then sleep for hours.

"That's great, Ron," she said and was pleasantly surprised when her voice didn't come out too bitter or angry at all. She shrugged internally at the eerie calmness she felt and scooped another serving of duck onto her plate.

"Yeh, really great," Harry echoed, and they both saw Ron let out a breath of relief.

Dinner slowly became a bit more comfortable after that. Much of their old chemistry returned once the tension had lifted and they were just the golden trio again, sitting and sharing a meal together. Hermione was warmed by the presence of her two friends, and that warmth seemed to ease some of the chill that had been with her since she left Azkaban the previous day. Full of hearty food and among her friends, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Malfoy, who was stuck in that horrible place. He was cold, hungry and alone right now. She felt a bit guilty for enjoying herself in light of his suffering. Finally dinner was finished and Ron mentioned that he had to return to the Burrow before Molly worried about him. He gave each of them a warm hug and made to leave. But before he could go he turned back once more to Hermione.

"Hey, Hermione… maybe we could talk soon, yeh? I'd really like to catch up." Ron rubbed the back of his neck and she nodded, her mouth a bit dry.

"Of course. That'd be nice."

He smiled awkwardly once more and then he was gone.

Hermione made her excuses quickly to Harry when he looked like he wanted to say something. She wasn't really in the mood for a heart-to-heart chat. Escaping after a brief hug, she quickly made her way upstairs. She had claimed one of the upstairs bedrooms that she remembered sleeping in during fifth year. Once the door was shut firmly behind her she leant against it with a frown. She thought that maybe she should be more upset by what Ron had revealed. But what really concerned her was the sort of numb detachment she had felt when he had mentioned Lavender. She had expected to experience more jealousy or resentment when he said her name like that, with a blush staining his cheeks and clashing with his red hair. But she had just felt sort of sad. Like it was the end of an era.

She could remember clearly the kiss they had shared during the battle at Hogwarts; it had been the culmination of months if not years of tension between them. They had both been swept up in the moment and her shock at hearing him worry about the house elves had surged through her like a strange fit of desire. But she had also been painfully aware of the sheer madness of starting any kind of relationship with him. They would kill each other within a week, she had thought. Before she had left for Australia, _she_ had been the one to gently close the door on any kind of official couple talk. So it was only fair that she support any new connections he might make with other girls. Sure, it stung a bit that it was Lavender Brown who had won back his heart, purely because of their bizarre history during sixth year, but she knew she could overcome those old feelings of animosity with the other Gryffindor girl. And really, at the end of the day, Hermione wasn't sure she could have ever offered Ron what he really wanted. He needed someone to worship him. He needed a girl who couldn't live without him, who cooked him warm meals every night and gave birth to a horde of beautiful ginger children. And while she would always love him as a dear friend, she simply wasn't that person. She had always been too independent for Ron. Throughout school he had been embarrassed by the success or fame of his friends when he was left behind. And that was fine.

Hermione chuckled wryly to herself. Lavender had always made him feel special. And having seen the change in Ron, she was sure the other girl had grown up a lot in the last year as well.

No, she didn't feel angry about this revelation, Hermione decided. She was happy for him. She only hoped that she would be just as lucky finding someone like he had, someone who appreciated her individuality, her fierce determination and her spirit. Maybe then she wouldn't be alone anymore.

….

...

..

After several months of imprisonment, Draco Malfoy had finally admitted to himself that he had completely lost his marbles. He had been worrying about his sanity for weeks now, but that one visit from the great Gryffindor princess Hermione Granger had confirmed it. To the best of his knowledge it had been a few days since she had come here to see him, and his mind was losing its grip on reality more and more every minute she was gone. Draco leant his back against the cold stone of the wall of his cell, his teeth chattering so hard they ached. He pressed his eyes closed tightly and clenched his hands into fists just to feel the burn of his bloodied fingernails piercing the skin of his palms. He enjoyed the slight stinging because it reminded him that he was still alive. Keeping his eyes shut firmly and taking a deep breath, Draco revelled in the feel of the icy air as it tore through his throat and into his lungs like barbed wire. He had developed a rattling cough recently, but it was the only sound that seemed to break the dreadful silence of his cell. When Draco opened his eyes again he could see black spots impede his vision, dancing before him temptingly like a head of curly hair. He laughed in a slightly maniacal way.

The main reason he could tell he was going mad was actually sitting in a pocket on the inside of his prison robe. The little scrap of cotton was pressed against his chest so tightly he thought he could will it to wrap all the way around him like a blanket.

It was _her_ handkerchief.

He could still remember the sight of her deep, almost endless eyes focused so intently on him, pressing the piece of material into his hand firmly and insisting that he should keep it. Slowly, Draco drew the handkerchief from his robe and held it up to the small crack of moonlight that filtered into the room from a high, unreachable window.

 _'H.J.G',_ it read in loopy embroidered lettering. It was feminine but practical, just like Granger. With a guilty clenching in his gut, he repeated the action that had steadily convinced him over the last few days that he was turning into a lunatic. He lifted the silky soft cotton to his nose and took a deep breath. His eyes rolled back into his head then as two different sensations washed over him. One was a persistent thrumming of desperation that had been awoken in him that day she visited him. Although mixed with flecks of his blood, the faint, lingering scent of lilac and vanilla was intoxicating and reminded him that he was not alone. The other sensation was revulsion. He really didn't _want_ to crave her company. They had only spent a few truly bizarre moments together in that interrogation room, and half the time he had been cackling at her and ranting about how she was a figment of his imagination. Later, back in his cell, he had felt humiliated when he realised he had appeared before his old school rival in such a pathetic state.

Oh but when she had touched him…

Draco's body was wracked with a violent shudder at the memory. He hadn't been exaggerating to her the other day. He really had been completely deprived of human contact in here. All his life he had heard horrific stories about Azkaban prison, and seen people who had left here traumatised, like his father. But even with the absence of the terrifying dementors he hadn't been prepared for it at all. The sheer void of any humanity, activity or anything to occupy his thoughts was like being trapped in a nightmare with only the darkest parts of his soul. He existed each day in a state of perpetual numbness, frantic for any sign of life around him.

So when Hermione Granger had grasped his hand over the table and pierced him with those big brown eyes he had felt all the breath leave his lungs. He had been thinking about it non-stop ever since she had left. He didn't even care that she was muggleborn anymore. Given where he was and what had happened to him in the last year, it would be foolish to hold onto such petty beliefs. Besides, Draco could hardly deny the truth in his own mind. And _truthfully_ he was waiting in furious anticipation for her to return. She had promised that she would. He needed her to return. He took another deep breath from the scrap of cotton that had her name embroidered onto it and her scent embedded in the material.

Sure, he still rather disliked her. He always had when they were at school. But when she had stared across the table at him, clearly outraged at his mistreatment, he had felt a stab of longing so powerful he couldn't suppress it even if he tried. He wasn't sure what it meant, but it had made the last few days slightly more bearable than usual. He wanted to see her again. He wanted her to keep worrying about him. It filled an emotional hole that had formed inside him and had burrowed deeper until he was bleeding out from the inside.

Draco's swirling thoughts were interrupted sharply by the sudden scraping of the lock of his door. His eyes widened in panic as his heart began to pound painfully in his chest. This was only the second time in all these months that anyone had entered his cell. The first had been when he had been taken to see Granger. He hoped desperately that this time would be the same. The hulking figure of the guard did not speak a word to him when he entered. In fact, Draco couldn't even see his face underneath the dark cloak shrouding him from view. The man merely growled and gestured to the door. Draco weakly clambered to his feet, feeling like he might topple down at any moment. They walked a fairly long distance through winding passageways, or at least it felt like a long way to him in his feeble state. Once or twice he almost succumbed to dizziness and had to support himself on the wall with one hand. The guard who was trailing close behind him did not move to help him.

They arrived at the same room as last time, and he was pushed in with a rough shove in the back. The door slammed shut behind him and then he was alone. He stumbled over to the desk and collapsed into the same chair as before, his pulse racing urgently and making his head spin even more.

Surely it was _her_ , he thought frantically. She was coming to see him again. She had promised. He was waiting for ages in that room, rocking on the edge of his seat impatiently. Feeling angry with himself for worrying about it, he nevertheless made a futile attempt to smooth down his hair. He scratched at his scalp and tugged the matted strands down to sit flatter on his head. He didn't really know why he bothered; it's not like it would help him look any less filthy.

Finally the door opened again with a deafening creak and Draco stared with unblinking eyes at his visitor. His face flushed and his skin prickled in awe as she entered. He never thought in all his years at school that Hermione Granger could be such a sight for sore eyes. And she _was_ magnificent. He had never deigned to appreciate muggle clothes before, but he had to admit as he swept his eyes hungrily over her figure that those skin-tight jeans looked fucking fabulous. Her curly hair was hanging loosely around her face this time. Last time it had been bound tightly, he remembered, but now it was spilling down in surprisingly soft waves. He wanted to touch it. Everything in this prison was rough and hard, and his hands were calloused from months without touching anything so soft.

But what drew his attention most were her eyes. Her deep, chocolate brown eyes with just a flicker of gold. She was the quintessential Gryffindor, he thought, allowing every single hint of emotion to shine from her gaze for the entire world to see. She was probably a terrible liar. And right now they conveyed shock and compassion and something that resembled a smouldering fury. He couldn't help but wonder why he had never realised before how stunning she was when she was cross.

 _Pull yourself together, Draco!_ he thought with an angry flush. He had clearly gone too long without any human connection. Or maybe he really was going mad. Because the sight of Hermione Granger, who he had always despised, was making him quiver with barely restrained anticipation.

"Hello again," she said at last, staring at him worriedly and moving tentatively closer to the table where he sat. She looked like she was afraid he might lash out at her or have some kind of fit. He didn't respond, he just watched her without breaking eye contact for even a second. She swallowed visibly and tried again to break the awkward silence, "How are you feeling today?"

Draco cleared his throat. He was ashamed of the pitiful rasping sound that came out when he spoke.

"Terrific," he drawled irritably, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "Bloody brilliant."

Hermione clearly winced in concern and sat down opposite him.

"I managed to convince the prison officials to let me bring you some things…" she began, hoisting a small beaded bag onto the table between them, "the warden almost had a heart attack when I told him. He cast just about every detection charm or spell on them that he could think of. Bastard."

He watched in amazement as she drew a few items out of the bag and placed them on the table before him. He felt bad now for snapping at her before. She produced each object and laid them out in an organised line. There was a plastic hair comb, a small tube of disinfectant soap, some kind of sterilising blister cream, a big block of medicinal chocolate, a pair of fuzzy woollen socks and finally a heavy patchwork blanket. He eyed her small bag critically, wondering briefly how it had all fit inside, before he realised she must have used an undetectable extension charm. That was pretty advanced magic. Draco felt her watching him apprehensively as he took in each item from the bag. He licked his cracked lips in a nervous gesture.

"They…are they going to…uh…can I really keep this stuff?"

She smiled softly and nodded. He felt a clenching, light feeling in his gut that was hard to ignore.

"Yes," she replied in a gentle voice, "It took some pretty heavy nagging and my most irritating tactics of persuasion, but I finally convinced the right people that it wouldn't do any harm."

He cleared his throat and reached out a trembling hand to touch each item in turn. He lingered longest on the blanket, imagining with a twinge of happiness how much warmer he would be in his cell with this to cover him. It was a pretty sort of mixture of dark green and midnight blue patchwork. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Granger bite her lip self-consciously.

"I hope it's half decent," she said in a slightly shaky tone, "I made it myself."

His eyes shot up to meet hers and he felt a swelling of gratitude for her. His hand dawdled lovingly over the pillowy fabric. But he also now felt horribly inadequate. He had been so cruel to her for so many years. And now she was helping him. Saving him. A wave of bitterness overwhelmed him and he immediately became defensive, his typical reaction to most emotions.

"Yeh, it's fine," he muttered dismissively, but she didn't seem to mind his brusque attitude. Instead of bothering to argue, she reached over and ripped the top of the chocolate wrapper open, snapping off a couple of pieces and offering it to him silently. Draco jerked forwards and accepted it, staring at her in confused delirium as he pressed the chocolate to his tongue. It started melting quickly in his mouth and he chewed it slowly as it filled him with a sweet sensation. Warmth spread through him rapidly, so beautifully that his body twisted in pleasure. He practically collapsed forwards onto the table, his fingers scratching at the wood of the surface. He hadn't felt warmth like this in months. It was heaven.

"Are you okay?" Granger asked with concern, and he nodded quickly. He must look truly weird reacting like that to a simple piece of medicinal chocolate.

"I'd forgotten what that feels like," he admitted sheepishly. She smiled softly in understanding and tilted her head to the side.

"I have something else for you," she said at last, and he watched her curiously as she pulled a folded slip of parchment from her coat, "It's a letter from your mother. I saw her a couple of days ago."

Draco grabbed the letter urgently, clutching it in front of him like a lifeline.

"Is she alright?" he asked, his gaze pleading.

Granger nodded, a more casual smile tugging at her lips as some of her awkwardness faded.

"Yes, she's doing great. We had tea!"

Draco stared at her in surprise before snorting.

"My mother and you had tea together? It must surely be a cold day in hell then."

He watched as she chuckled a bit too.

"I thought so too at first. But we actually have a lot in common."

That earned her a raised eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Yes, actually. Don't sound so surprised."

Draco fiddled nervously with the parchment for a moment before slipping it into his pocket alongside the handkerchief hidden there.

"Thank you for going to see her," he muttered eventually and she looked mildly surprised.

"That's alright. I wanted to anyway…" she paused for a moment during which she stared at a spot on the table in front of her, before raising her shining eyes once more to his, "We're going to get you out of here, Malfoy. I promise."

He felt his throat close up a bit at the weight of emotion in her gaze. The sincerity in her eyes was almost too much for him after so long in isolation.

"Don't get all weepy on me, Granger," he decided to say after an uncomfortable silence, and it brought a hoarse chuckle out of her.

"Okay," she agreed, blinking quickly and looking back down at the items on the table between them, "Do you want me to clean up your hands? I noticed last time that they were pretty damaged."

"I thought you didn't have your wand…?" he snarled in confusion but she just huffed softly and shook her head. Against his will he noticed the way her curls bounced gaily around her shoulders as she did.

"I meant I can clean them up the muggle way," she explained and he blushed a bit, feeling foolish. Of course that was what she meant.

"I don't really care," he finally said in a low growl, "They'll just get dirty again."

Despite his curt response, Draco couldn't help but scold himself inwardly for being a fool. If he let her wash and clean his hands then that would mean she'd touch him again. And he wanted that more than anything. Luckily for him she wasn't put off by his hostility. She reached for the disinfectant and produced a small packet of white cotton buds from her pockets. They were obviously muggle products.

"Hold your hands out," she insisted, ignoring his hostility. Unprepared for her bossy tone, he immediately did as she demanded. She took hold of his hands in quite a firm, clinical way and turned them so they were facing palm up. Draco's whole body tightened and went rigid the moment she touched him. He had been waiting for this almost every second since she had left the last time. Her skin was so smooth as she carefully inspected his damaged nail beds from where he had scratched them raw. He stared down at her hands as she got to work. They were quite small and dainty. And although her skin was fairly pale, she seemed almost golden next to him.

"This may sting a little," she warned in a gentle voice. Her eyes flickered up to his uneasily. She was biting down on her bottom lip in concentration. Then she began to dab at his skin with some kind of sterilising liquid and he hissed. It burned so bad.

"Fuck, Granger-" he spat, trying to flinch away from her and cradle his hands to his chest. But her grip was firm and she would not let him pull away.

"I did warn you," she retorted, but he just huffed loudly.

"Yeh well… just hurry up and get it over with."

Despite his harsh words and the painful smarting of the liquid against his cuts, Draco was enjoying her treatment far too much. If he could make her sit here forever and tend to him like this, he would. Her actions were soothing and almost pleasurable. He leaned further over the table, shifting closer towards her and his eyes never left her face while she worked. She stayed very focused of course. Her attention was fixed keenly on what she was doing. But he was letting his own gaze wander over the curve of her cheek, the frowning crease between her brows, the curl of her lashes as they blinked slowly…the swell of her lips.

She looks so clean, he thought. He had been wallowing in his own filth for so long that he couldn't help but latch onto the smell of scented soap on her skin, and the sight of her silky, shampooed hair. It was strange what one missed when they were forced to live in squalor, he mused.

Once she had finished cleaning out his wounds, she drew a small pouch from her bag with bandages inside. She proceeded to rub a healing balm onto the cuts ready to wrap them up tightly. But all Draco could absorb was the feeling of her rubbing the paste onto his tender skin. She was stroking his fingers and massaging the cream into all the bumps and valleys of his hands where he was sore. It was almost too much. His teeth were grinding together so hard he was surprised she didn't hear it.

"There!" she announced at last as she wrapped the bandages around his fingers and tied them off neatly, "All better."

Draco reluctantly pulled his hands away and inspected what she had done. He instantly felt a pang of hunger in his skin where they were no longer touching.

"Thanks," he muttered a bit grumpily, nursing his hands to his chest and wondering what other injuries he could convince her to treat while she was here.

"You're welcome. Now have another piece of chocolate!"

He gladly obeyed her instruction, letting the warmth from the chocolate wash over him and thaw a little bit of his terror.

"Is there anything else I can bring you next time I visit?" she asked quietly, and he tilted his head to the side in contemplation. He was suddenly uncomfortable with how much he had humiliated himself in front of her. He didn't want to beg for anything. And he definitely didn't want her pity.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked a little sullenly instead of answering her question like she probably expected. And sure enough her eyebrows rose up high on her forehead and she licked her lips nervously.

"I told you last time, you don't deserve this. And…"

Draco snorted and glared at her.

"And?"

"You saved my life," she repeated in the same quiet voice she had used last time. He scowled at her for a few moments, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Of course he remembered saving her in the Room of Requirement. He had acted impulsively and his survival instincts had kicked in. When he had seen her huddled up in fright on the floor, clutching her ankle and about to be swallowed up by those flames, he had acted without even thinking. The only thing that had crossed his mind was the sudden idea that he didn't want Hermione Granger to die. So he had hauled her up with him to the top of a pile of furniture and had literally thrown her onto the back of one of the broomsticks her friends had been riding. It was only later when they had caught their breath that he had realised what had happened. He was supposed to be a Death Eater and he had just saved the life of the most notorious muggleborn witch alive. So he had run, and had hidden from her and from himself like a fucking coward for the rest of the battle.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking I did that out of some kind of big noble or heroic gesture or anything, Granger. It just happened," he explained in a low, resentful tone. Across from him, he saw her teeth sink even more deeply into her bottom lip until it was red and puffy. She observed him quietly for a while.

"It doesn't matter," she murmured at last, "You still saved me. And whether you like it or not I plan to repay you."

Draco watched her with sharp eyes. All his life he had been distrustful of people who tried to help him, suspecting them of selfish or underhanded motives. He had practically ignored Snape all of sixth year when the older man tried to give him assistance with his task. But there was no artifice or cunning in her face. She was completely open and honest. Every single pure emotion was shining out from her bottomless brown eyes. Draco swallowed in an attempt to clear the dry lump in his throat.

"Books," he finally growled.

"What?"

"I want something to read, Granger. Keep up."

She nodded hurriedly, her eyes widening almost comically.

" _Oh!_ "

With an exclamation of delight she whipped out her beaded bag again and dug around in it until she found something.

"I totally forget, I actually brought you _this…_ "

She finally produced something from her bag and slapped it down on the table between them. It was a book, just as he'd asked.

"I had to get this specially approved by the warden in case it…I don't know… had escape plans concealed inside it or something ridiculous."

Draco grabbed the book and turned it over in his hands to read the title.

"Seriously, Granger? This is what you chose?"

She nodded enthusiastically and he rolled his eyes as he flicked through the pages casually. It was _Hogwarts: A History._ He remembered other students teasing her about knowing it almost off by heart at school.

"I just thought it might cheer you up, remembering Hogwarts."

He scoffed loudly and put the book down on top of the rest of his collection of things.

"You're such a bloody Gryffindor," he sneered, but she just shrugged. He didn't seem to be able to rile her as easily as he used to.

Without warning the door groaned open again and Draco felt his gut clench unpleasantly. He didn't want her to leave. Unlike last time, however, it wasn't the usual guard who opened it. It was the warden. Draco had only seen him the once when he was first brought to the prison. He hadn't made a strong first impression back then though. Granger shot to her feet in surprise and turned to face him, but Draco just remained seated. The short, slightly balding man was probably in his early forties and had a dark, brooding expression on his face as he entered. He spared Draco a contemptuous glance before shifting his gaze to the curly haired Gryffindor. He looked disparagingly at her for a heavy moment.

"Time to leave," he snapped. Draco grit his teeth at the man's abrupt and condescending attitude.

"Alright," she replied in a placating tone, putting her hands in front of her openly, "Could we just have one more minute to say goodbye, please?"

He was impressed by Granger's confidence in the face of such a severe scowl.

"No. I've been told I have to give you thirty minutes and that is precisely how long you will receive."

Draco watched in trepidation as Granger spluttered at the way the man spoke to her. She bristled with outrage.

"You're being unreasonable-"

"And you're being a pain in my ass! Now get out of my prison."

She turned back to Draco hurriedly, glancing over the table and making sure that everything was left there in a neat pile for him to take back to his cell.

"I'll come back soon," she said to him quickly and he nodded, feeling a plummeting sensation as the warden tried to shepherd her out the door. He stared at her like a man dying of thirst, not wanting to blink for even a second as he imprinted the sight of her feminine, welcoming figure onto his mind.

"Thank you for…everything," he croaked, holding up his bandaged hands and gesturing also to the blanket, socks and book on the table sitting among the other small items. The warden clucked his tongue impatiently.

"Alright…goodbye!"

He nodded and then she was gone, rushed out the door far too swiftly for his liking. The warden was menacing and really seemed to have a grudge against Granger. He supposed she was making his life more difficult by fighting for better conditions or privileges for him at the prison. He collected his few precious gifts into a pile and clutched them to his chest protectively, willing to protect them with his life. This time the door was opened by the faceless guard again and thankfully nothing was said about the items he carried. He was just marched back to his cell in silence.

Once he had been returned there without incident and the door had been locked behind him, Draco sat eagerly on the floor and laid out each object as if he were a child at Christmas time. He tugged the socks onto his feet eagerly, recognising the gentle tingling of a warming charm that had been knitted into them. He spread out the blanket onto his rickety cot, running his fingers lovingly over the patchwork patterns. Granger had made it herself, she'd said. Knowing that it was something she had made herself warmed him even more than the socks.

He divided the chocolate into sections and kept it to one side of the bed. He would ration it out carefully over the next couple of days until she came back.

Once everything had been organised perfectly to his liking, he huddled under the quilt with a shudder of pleasure, pulling it around his shoulders. It even sort of smelled like her. Lilac and vanilla. He sat fiddling with the hair comb for a while, turning it over in his fingers thoughtfully. Then finally he began to tug it through his hair, wincing a bit in pain as it caught on the many matted tangles. But it was worth it. And maybe next time Granger came to visit him he would look just a little bit more presentable for her.

….

 **Another chapter down. Hopefully the plot is starting to take off now. Let me know what you think! Reviews are gold :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

 **Back again. A bit more politics and some more interaction between our two leads. I hope you are enjoying this story now that it's underway. As always, JKR is the queen of these sorcerers!**

"Are you out of your mind?"

Hermione pursed her lips stubbornly and shook her head. She stood firmly across from the Minister's large mahogany desk with her arms crossed over her chest in a bossy stance.

"Not at all. I seem to be the only person around here who is still in their _right_ mind!" she argued doggedly.

"Hermione," Kingsley sighed, rubbing his fingers over his temples in a gesture of near incredulity, "You can't just change the way things are done in Azkaban. Not even _I_ can go in there and turn the place upside down! And I'm the Minister of Magic for Merlin's sake."

Hermione snorted in derision.

"I hardly want to turn it upside down, Kingsley," she retorted, "I just want them to install some basic bloody bathroom facilities! It's completely inhumane there now. It's basically _torture!_ "

Kingsley shook his head tiredly.

"I understand your outrage, but that's just how it's always been in the wizarding world. Prison is supposed to be a strong deterrent for the worst kinds of crimes – like murder and conspiracy to overthrow the government! And Malfoy _is_ a Death Eater after all. So he's guilty of both."

Hermione actually stomped her foot.

"NO… He is _accused_ of those crimes! He hasn't even been to trial yet! He's innocent until proven guilty."

Kinglsey eyed her critically for a moment, observing her far too calmly over his linked fingers as he rested his elbows on the desk.

"Don't get too attached to him, Hermione," he warned in a low voice, and she felt her stomach clench with anxiety at his implication, "The chances of him being acquitted are quite slim."

She smiled cheekily, waving her finger pointedly at him.

"Ah! But there _is_ a chance! And as long as there is any hope, even if it is rather slim, I won't let this drop!"

Kingsley gave her an indulgent smile and leaned back with a groan.

"Damn irritating witch," he muttered mockingly, "Explain to me again what you're trying to achieve here."

Hermione smiled triumphantly, knowing that he was starting to cave. She tossed her hair imperiously over her shoulder.

"I want him to be treated with enough basic human dignity to perform the simple act of _bathing._ Is that really such a big deal?"

"It is highly irregular for any prisoner to-"

"It's despicable and immoral and just plain disgusting to keep him in those unhygienic conditions when he hasn't even been properly tried and sentenced yet!"

" _All_ the prisoners are given the same standards of treatment, Hermione. Why should one arrogant little pureblood boy be any different?"

She huffed and bit down into her bottom lip for a few thoughtful moments. Clearly appealing to any feelings of sympathy or humanity wasn't working. The wizarding world simply didn't operate that way. Just look at the house elves, she thought grimly. In many ways they were stuck back in the Dark Ages. Hermione frowned in contemplation, realising that she needed to stop thinking like a bleeding heart Gryffindor and start thinking like a politician. She needed to consider the legal and political implications. Everything tended to revolve around either publicity or bureaucracy at the ministry of magic, rarely about the good of wizarding kind. Not many people were like Arthur Weasley.

"Think about it this way," she said at last, her voice steady and logical, "if by some miraculously _slim_ chance Draco Malfoy is in fact acquitted of these charges, then you could potentially have a tricky lawsuit on your hands. The last time I visited him he did look rather ill. Quite sickly, actually. What happens if he contracts some horrific disease from the poor hygiene in your prison? He's rich and powerful…he could make things very difficult for you if he's found innocent. Imagine the embarrassment for the ministry…"

She trailed off with a cunning smile and watched in glee as Kingsley glared at her. He didn't look too angry, however. She knew he had a bit of a soft spot for her anyway, and he was a fair person at heart.

"You think you're pretty clever, don't you?"

She shrugged with a wry smile.

"I have been told that, yes."

He sighed dramatically and threw his hands in the air.

"I'll see what I can do. But Friedman is already pretty ticked off about all this. He writes angry letters to me almost daily now."

"He's a worm," Hermione said with a slight narrowing of the eyes, staring down the Minister of Magic with her most menacing glare.

"True…" Kinglsey conceded with a shrug, "But he used to only complain to me weekly about his problems. Now my inbox is overflowing every morning! The owls are going mad over the amount of traffic back and forth."

"He does seem to despise me a great deal…"

Kingsley raised an elegant brow at her.

"Well you should prepare yourself for much worse," he warned in a serious voice, "If you truly intend to continue changing the status quo in our world you'll need a thick skin. And the moment people find out you're defending the Malfoy kid you're probably going to receive a lot of hate mail."

Hermione grimaced.

"Kingsley, I've been receiving hate mail since I was fourteen. I can handle it."

He nodded and finally his face cracked into a slight smile.

"I don't doubt that."

She chuckled, remembering how she used to bug all the members of the Order of the Phoenix with her house elf rights campaign. She had certainly acquired a high tolerance for other people's scorn over the years.

"Thank you for your help. I mean it," she said with wide, sincere eyes. She smiled sweetly at him and watched until she saw him melt a bit with affection.

"Go on, don't waste your precious time skulking around here all day," he growled in a deliberately rough voice that hid his amusement, "Go take over the world."

Hermione laughed and gave him a cheerful wave as she left the office. She thought proudly about all the little, seemingly insignificant things she had achieved over the last week. It may not seem like much, but she hoped that it helped in some small way with Malfoy's imprisonment and eventual trial. But the right to have a shower was an easy hurdle to cross. Winning his freedom would be the real battle.

….

Draco couldn't help but imagine the worst when one of the guards barged into his cell in the early hours of the morning. The man roughly dragged him to his feet and pushed him along the corridor until they arrived at a thick wooden door. It was freezing, and while the woollen socks Granger had given him were cosy, they slipped a lot on the icy stone floor. He scowled at the door in front of them suspiciously, wondering with a slight twinge of madness what horrible torture lay beyond. The guard cleared his throat gruffly.

"The room has been warded. Knock if you require assistance or you're finished. You have fifteen minutes."

Now Draco was even more confused. The guard jerked the door open and waited impatiently. So he went through with caution. The door slammed shut behind him with a ring of finality. His eyes blinked rapidly as they tried to adjust to the dim candle lighting inside. When he realised what he was looking at in front of him, Draco couldn't prevent a slightly manic chuckle from escaping his lips.

"Bloody hell, Granger…" he muttered almost inaudibly, inching his way forwards into the small, enclosed space. There was a sort of rudimentary shower affixed to one of the walls, with rusty metal taps and a showerhead protruding from the stone. They were clearly spelled there by some kind of charm as they looked a bit out of place. And then along the opposite wall was a roughly hewn basin. Scattered across the top were a flimsy plastic toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. Behind them were small containers lined up in a row that looked like they might be different shampoos and body washes. Draco stared around at the cramped room in disbelief. He didn't know how long he merely stood there taking it in. He was just so shocked. She had actually done it. She had somehow convinced the weedy, arrogant warden of Azkaban to provide his notorious Death Eater prisoner with something so beautifully simple as a shower.

Draco felt a stinging sensation in his eyes and he blinked quickly. He took a deep breath and clenched his hands into tight fists to regain control. It was just a shower, for Merlin's sake! He shouldn't get so emotional over something so common. But the uncomfortable lump in his throat told a different story. He was…touched. Draco didn't know what he had done in a past life to deserve Granger's unique brand of help, but he felt genuinely moved by it.

 _You have fifteen minutes…_

The words of the guard suddenly rang through his mind. Shaking himself into action, Draco got to work. He didn't have long and he wanted to make the most of this unexpected boon. He quickly stripped off his clothes and laid them to one side away from the shower space. He fiddled with the taps and waited impatiently as the freezing downpour slowly turned into a slightly more acceptable, almost tepid, room temperature. It wasn't perfect, but considering how long it had been since he'd washed he wasn't exactly fussy. Draco let out a low groan as he stepped under the spray fully. The water soaked through his oily hair and across his cracked and dry body. His skin burned all over. But he tilted his head up in near ecstasy at the simple joy that he had almost forgotten.

Draco grappled with the soaps and bottles nearby and took his time lathering it through his hair and massaging it into his body. It felt so luxurious. He could practically feel the layer of grime and dirt peeling away from him as he rubbed himself raw. Looking down he noticed that his skin was tinged an angry pink colour from his efforts. He grinned. It was glorious.

Draco's mind turned gratefully to Granger as he piled up a decent swirl of toothpaste onto the brush and eagerly scrubbed at his gums until they ached. She was his saviour right now, he thought with a swelling sense of relief. The last couple of days since she had visited, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. It was even worse than last time. He was like a man obsessed. He would sit in his cell replaying every second of their interactions in his mind over and over. She had been so compassionate, so sincere. And he felt a strange thrill at the memory of her eyes burning in silent outrage as she had observed the damage on his body. He felt giddy when she was cross. Like she was a lioness going into battle for him. And the feel of her fingers gently rubbing ointment over his knuckles and around the deep valleys of his hands had excited him. In the hours following her departure, Draco had sat numbly just staring at the wall as his gut twisted with confused feelings. Then he had devoured the book that she brought him. Of course it was incredibly lame and so infuriatingly Gryffindor of her to give him that particular book about Hogwarts. He knew she was trying to make him nostalgic, while also sending a clear message about how he had treated her when they were at school. Though maybe it took a Slytherin to figure that one out. He wasn't even sure if she realised her own implication. Because it was a reminder of how Hogwarts was home to a lot of _their_ history together. And it wasn't exactly a good history. Nevertheless, having something to read had practically set fire to his mind after so many months of draining numbness.

Suspecting that his allotted time was almost coming to an end, Draco quickly tidied himself up and tugged on his clothes. It felt rotten having to put those grubby prison robes back on when his skin now felt so clean. But there wasn't anything he could do about it. Almost lovingly, he finished by placing the woollen socks on his feet. He wiggled his toes happily underneath the knitted material, pleased at how nice it felt not to have dirt encrusted between them.

The guard interrupted his delirious musings not long after that, as he had expected. He was taken back to his cell without any more words spoken. He was a bit surprised he hadn't seen the warden's ugly face during all this. It had probably been a big inconvenience for them all. As he settled back onto his cot, Draco opened up to the next chapter of his book and snuggled deeper under his blanket. Feeling a bit pampered and selfish after his shower, he took the liberty of snapping off another piece of chocolate as well. Letting the chocolate melt onto his tongue slowly, he began to immerse himself in the hidden charms and mysteries of the old castle once more. But at the forefront of his mind was the solid, painfully real knowledge that he now looked forward to seeing Granger even more than before.

 _And damnit I don't feel any guilt about it whatsoever…_

….

When Hermione next visited Malfoy she was extremely surprised and pleased upon entering their little interview room. He looked…fresh. His hair was clean and brushed to sit smoothly on his head with a few feathery soft strands flopping down over his forehead. And although he still wore that raggedy prison robe, his skin underneath seemed less clammy and splotched than before. The last two times she had been here, Hermione had barely recognised him under all the grime. He had been a withered husk of his former self. But now he had started to resemble, even if only slightly, the good-looking Slytherin boy who had won the attention of so many girls at school.

She smiled brightly at him as she sat down on the other side of the table. Though she fiddled a bit nervously with the braid that was draped haphazardly over one shoulder. Malfoy was watching her intently. His hands were resting on the table, clenched together so tightly she could see the white tinge of his knuckles. Hermione's brows rose a bit in concern at the stiff way he was holding himself.

"Is everything okay?" she asked quickly. Draco looked a bit surprised at her question and immediately nodded his head.

"Yes," he rushed to say, before pausing and cocking his head to the side with a self-deprecating smirk, "Well…as okay as things can be in this depressing hell hole."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed into her chair.

"You just seem overly stressed, that's all," she commented softly. Malfoy's eyes pierced hers for a long moment before he shrugged in a gesture of forced casualness.

"This is a pretty stressful place…" he seemed reluctant to continue, but she held his gaze, knowing that there was something he wasn't telling her. Finally he sighed and admitted, "… _and_ I've been waiting in here for a long time. I was afraid you weren't coming after all."

Hermione was acutely aware of her stomach jolting a bit at his murmured confession. She felt strangely conflicted about his obvious desperation. But then she supposed that with no other human contact he depended on her to provide all his mental and emotional stimulation. She made a quick note to herself to go to the local library when she got home and research the psychological impacts of solitary confinement. Pushing aside her concerns, she smiled gently at him again.

"Sorry," she murmured, "Mister Friedman the warden is not exactly my biggest fan. He deliberately delayed me for all sorts of stupid detection charms, trying to uncover my evil plan."

Draco raised a brow in surprise.

"Your evil plan?" he repeated dubiously. She chuckled.

"Yes. Apparently wanting to help _you_ is a sure sign that I am possessed by a dark magical force hell bent on wreaking havoc in the wizarding world."

She actually got a laugh out of him for that.

"Of course," he agreed, "Sorry for the inconvenience."

His dry voice perked her up a bit. He seemed to be in a much better mood today. Feeling more confident about what she had brought for him, she fished out her beaded bag and clunked it down on the table. His eyes instantly lit up upon seeing it.

"So… I got you some more books. But I wasn't sure what kind of things you were interested in-"

"Literally _anything_ is better than nothing, Granger. You could bring me a bloody encyclopaedia about flobberworms and it'd beat staring at the walls of my cell and slowly going insane."

Hermione grinned at his joke. Even though his tone had been biting, he was definitely more eager for conversation today. Maybe he had finally succumbed to the desire to just talk normally to someone, even if it was _her_ , whom he'd always hated.

"Don't talk too soon," she warned with a twinkle in her eye, digging in her beaded bag and producing a small collection of three books, "I thought more textbooks would be a bit dull. So I brought you…uh… _muggle_ novels."

She watched him carefully for a reaction. Malfoy's lips twitch briefly into a scowl, but he was still looking curiously as the books were placed on the table. He immediately snatched one up and started to read the blurb on the back cover, ignoring her scrutiny.

"Thank you," he finally muttered once he had devoured the covers of all three books and stacked them to one side.

"Don't mention it," she replied, shocked that he hadn't put up a fight about her making him read muggle fiction. He really must be getting desperate in here, she thought. "I also brought you some more chocolate. _And_ even a few Pepper Imps and a packet of Bertie Botts!"

She placed the carefully wrapped packages from Honeydukes on the table and he snatched them up with a covetous stare.

"Damn, Granger. You sure know how to hit all the right spots. I never thought I would miss sugar so much…"

She giggled and watched in amusement as he ripped open the Bertie Botts. He popped one in his mouth warily, but his lips soon stretched into a grin.

"Mmm… apple pie…"

Hermione chuckled again, shaking her head indulgently.

"You're easy to please these days, Malfoy. And I take it from your slightly more groomed appearance that you got your shower?"

Even though the evidence was right in front of her, she asked the question carefully. Kingsley had promised that he would help, but she knew the Warden had it in for her and wasn't likely to be very tractable.

"Yes I did. It was so…" he paused and rubbed at his much cleaner hair a bit self-consciously, "Er…It's strange how quickly you can forget the pleasures of those small creature comforts you take for granted."

Hermione raised one brow elegantly at him.

"That's very deep, Malfoy. Not to mention unexpected."

"Because you think I'm just some spoilt brat?" he asked with a wry smile.

"Among other things."

They smiled softly at each other for a few long moments before Hermione squirmed a bit uncomfortably. She felt a bit uncertain of herself under his direct, intense gaze.

"Your mother wanted to know if you could write her a letter while I'm here. I brought a quill and parchment…" she trailed off with a question in her tone. Malfoy nodded quickly.

"Of course. I'll do it right now if you like."

She presented him with the writing equipment and waited silently as he got started. He spent a couple of minutes just sitting there staring at the page and clearly thinking hard. Eventually he began scratching away with the dark green, feathery quill. Her eyes flickered down to his hands. They were no longer bandaged up, but the cuts and grazes had definitely faded. She did notice that he was still very emaciated and shaky. And his hand tired quickly of writing. He flexed the muscles a few times and finally dropped the quill down onto the table.

"I think that's all I can do at the moment-" he said with a hint of embarrassment. She nodded and quickly took the parchment away, rolling it up and slipping it back into her bag. Her heart swelled happily thinking of how pleased Narcissa would be when she received word from her son.

"Can I ask you something?" he began in a quivering voice. Hermione stared at him in surprise.

"Yes, of course."

He paused for a long time before he spoke again.

"Have you seen or spoken to my lawyers?"

Hermione frowned at the question. He wasn't meeting her eye; he just kept staring down at a dark spot on the table.

"Uh…no. I haven't. Your mother told me they've been working on their notes for trial next month. And I know they've submitted some pre-trial motions with the Wizengamot. Why?"

He peered up at her a bit darkly. He was twisting his fingers together in an anxious way.

"Well, it's just that I assumed they would want to talk to me. How can they defend me if they don't even know me? When they haven't even heard my side of the story?"

Hermione blinked in surprise and pursed her lips.

"What do you mean? They didn't come to see you?"

"No."

"You've never even met them?"

" _No,_ " he repeated a bit irritably. Hermione was stunned. She had assumed that, despite his madness when she first came here, that he had at least received one visit from his expensive legal team in the beginning. Not for the first time she wondered if they were really worth the exorbitant price Narcissa was paying them.

"That's deplorable!" she blurted out, her mouth dropping open unattractively. At this, he finally raised his eyes to hers. A smile twitched at his lips. She wasn't sure why he found her outrage so amusing.

"You're such a Gryffindor," he commented mildly, but she was still fuming over what she'd just learned.

"I'm serious! This is _not_ acceptable, Malfoy! I am going to speak to your mother and hunt down the son of a bitch who's _supposed_ to be in charge of your defence. I'll make sure he knows bloody well what I think of his approach so far."

She wasn't sure what she had been expecting from him, but it certainly wasn't laughter. And yet here he was, throwing his head back and actually laughing at her words. His lips even crinkled enough at the corners to make two small dimples appear as he cackled.

" _What?_ " she asked with a pout.

"You haven't changed a bit," he replied with what she could only assume was an affectionate smile. It made her feel uneasy. She observed him quietly for a few moments, contemplating him. He seemed much more laid back in her presence today. In fact, he was warming to her much quicker than she had ever anticipated. If she had guessed, she would have assumed that he would be resentful and maybe even opposed to her coming to see him, or unwilling to accept help from someone like her. But instead he seemed to positively welcome her more and more with each new visit.

"You have. Changed, I mean."

She noted her observation in a soft, barely audible voice. But he heard it. Malfoy's smile faded but he didn't sneer or show any malice. Just understanding. Eventually he cleared his throat and spoke in a hoarse whisper.

"Well…let's just say that losing everything makes you re-evaluate yourself."

Hermione snorted, but it was rather fondly and without any spite.

"Who are you and what have you done with the real Draco Malfoy?" she queried with one eyebrow raised in a high arch. He smirked, though his cheeks were tinged with a slight blush. He seemed to contemplate her for a very long time before he replied. And when he did, he wasn't able to meet her eye.

"I treated you badly…at school…I said things that, well…"

Hermione instantly felt pity for him. He was stumbling so nervously over what she assumed was supposed to be a budding apology. At least, that's where she thought he was going with this. His face was scrunched up in a rictus of guilt and self-hatred. Her gut swooped and an ache bloomed in her chest that actually physically hurt.

"It's alright, Malfoy. It's in the past. You were a child."

His eyes shot up sharply.

"That doesn't excuse my behaviour."

She nodded.

"True. But it doesn't really seem to matter anymore, does it? Given what's happening…"

He let out a deep breath he had clearly been holding. He didn't look too happy to be let off the hook. Hermione briefly wondered whether he actually _wanted_ her to yell at him or scorn him for his old prejudices. He looked strangely depressed and resentful that she was just shrugging it off. His lips curled up and he slumped forward in his chair.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered so softly she almost didn't hear him. Her spine tingled with sudden nerves at the intensity of the moment. She wasn't sure how their easy conversation had suddenly become so weighed down, but she felt it like lead in the pit of her stomach. Hermione fiddled with the beaded fringe of her bag, her gaze dropping down to the table because she couldn't seem to look at him right now. There was a very long awkward pause between them. On some level she knew she should feel pleased or vindicated that he was trying to apologize for his behaviour towards her when they were at school. Surely any normal witch or wizard would gladly take an apology from their former tormentor and find some kind of catharsis in it. But Hermione realised quite suddenly and to her utmost surprise that she simply didn't need him to say it. Having seen the abrupt and terrifying change wrought in him by not only his prison term but also the war as a whole, she simple couldn't bring herself to feel bitter towards him at all. How could you hold the attitudes of a brainwashed twelve year old against them, when years of adversity had transformed them into something new and better?

Hermione was all too aware that she might be in trouble here. There was something indefinable hanging in the air between them now. It was as confusing as it was intense. She could not put her finger on the emotion that was welling up inside her every time she met his eye, but it scared her. Finally she worked up the guts to take a deep breath and speak again, brushing past the conversation and trying to change the topic.

"Hopefully the warden will honour the deal I asked Kingsley to make with him. You should be given a chance to use the bathroom facilities twice a week. For now."

Malfoy nodded with a more eager expression, clearly cheering up at the reminder of a fresh shower. She smiled as well and continued, "And I'm trying to convince him to give you a change of clothes and maybe put some kind of warming charm on your cell."

"Thank you, Granger."

Hermione nodded, but she felt a twinge of discomfort. Every time she visited he seemed to feel obliged to thank her for everything. She wished he could see her as more of an equal. But she supposed that wasn't going to be possible as long as he was stuck in this place.

"Actually, I was thinking…" she trailed off and bit her lip anxiously for probably an entire minute. She wasn't sure that what she was about to say was wise, but she ploughed on ahead anyway, "You should probably call me Hermione. I feel like I'm back in school when you say _Granger_ so seriously like that."

Malfoy's eyes widened and she saw him visibly swallow. He leaned back in his chair and adopted a forcibly casual demeanour. She could tell it was an act based on the way he had impulsively clenched his hands and licked his lips nervously. But his eyes were cool and calm as he replied,

"I will if you will."

She grinned and was about to respond when there was a knocking on the door. When it opened this time it was just the guard gruffly waiting to escort her from the room. The warden had not appeared today to express his displeasure with her again. Hermione sighed sadly, not wanting to leave so soon but knowing she wasn't able to stay.

"Alright, I'm coming," she groaned at the guard's stern gesture, rising to her feet. She noticed that Malfoy had jerked forwards in his chair as if he were panicked. He gripped the three new books and the paper bag of chocolates close to him. His lips were thin and stretched almost furiously into a line anguish and his brows were drawn together darkly under the mop of blond hair. His stare was scorching through her. She shuffled awkwardly for a few seconds before hoisting her bag up off the desk and under her arm.

"Well, goodbye Dr…Draco," she stammered, not accustomed to using his first name to his face like this, and feeling really stupid when her face heated up. "I'll be back soon."

His lips twitched strangely, as if he wanted to blurt something out, but instead it came across as a sort of choking sound.

"Goodbye…" he gaped silently for a moment before clearly forcing himself to take a breath, "… _Hermione._ "

Her stomach clenched strangely and her blush deepened into an embarrassing shade of crimson. Unable to say another word for fear of squeaking like a house elf, Hermione spun around and practically raced from the room without another glance back at him.

Once she was trekking from the room towards the floo point, she finally started to breathe again normally. She gasped in the icy air of the prison and shook her head quickly back and forth a few times.

 _Don't be stupid, it's just a name…_ she told herself, wondering why it suddenly felt so horribly personal. But then again was it really so unusual? This was a boy who she had hated and who had hated her for most of their acquaintance. And to become suddenly familiar and almost friendly with him was bound to be a little unusual.

 _I just have to stay rational!_ She reminded herself, lifting her chin in determination at this timely reminder. _It's perfectly normal to use someone's given name, after all!_

But despite this, Hermione couldn't lie to herself as easily as she wanted. And she definitely couldn't ignore the way the life debt smouldered in the back of her mind, burning itself onto all her senses like a brand. The familiar tingling of magic she had become so used to had briefly flared into a hot, thrumming awareness of his own magic. And it terrified her.

 **So this was another difficult but rewarding chapter. How do you feel their connection is developing? Please leave diamond gold platinum reviews!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

 **Another chapter down – some more Narcissa and Harry this time, and a bit more time passes. I hope you enjoy it. As always, JKR is a super classy lady with a super set of characters.**

Narcissa was almost inconsolable when she read the letter from her son. Hermione felt a bit awkward standing to one side as the otherwise austere woman tried to stifle her sobs and contain her tumultuous emotions. Her runny mascara was blinked back hurriedly as she patted at her perfectly arranged hair.

"Please forgive me," she muttered hoarsely, obviously embarrassed by her outburst, "I'm not normally so…"

'It's alright," Hermione hastened to reassure her, giving a warm smile, "I was pretty weepy too after I left the prison yesterday, and I don't even _like_ him."

Narcissa chuckled and drew herself up straight, clearly comforted by her little joke. She placed an elegant hand on Hermione's forearm and gave it a small squeeze.

"Thank you my dear, I appreciate everything you've done since we last spoke. Did they let you take in some books?"

Hermione blushed a bit and bit down on her lip.

"Uh…yes. But I have to confess, I wasn't sure what they would allow or what they might try to seize… so I took muggle fiction novels."

She looked up warily but Narcissa just smirked at her rather indulgently.

"Oh I'm sure he'll enjoy whatever he can get his hands on."

"Hmmm I'm _not_ so sure."

Narcissa chuckled, skimming over her precious letter again.

"He mentions you," she commented lightly, making Hermione instantly curious. She peered over towards the letter but couldn't see it clearly. She raised her brows at the older woman instead.

"What does he say?" she asked warily. No doubt Malf… _Draco…_ would have written to his mother about the mortification of having to accept help from a muggleborn. No matter what he might have said yesterday, she still suspected that he was probably begging his mother to find someone else, _anyone_ else. But she was surprised when Narcissa just smiled at her with an understanding softness in her gaze.

"He says I should trust you. That I can rely on you if I need anything."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. She was completely stunned by Draco's words to his mother. He had told Narcissa to trust her? That seemed rather out of character. Was this really the same boy who had bullied her throughout school because of her blood status? But then she remembered his stumbled attempt at an apology and the gaunt, hollow look in his eyes when she had left him there in that interview room yesterday. As if all the light was quite literally being sucked from the room. So maybe he had come to depend on her more than she had realised.

"Wow," she murmured softly, blinking and not sure what else she should say.

"He obviously has a lot of respect for you," Narcissa continued, "He referred to you as _The Brightest Witch of our Age_ in the letter _._ "

Hermione snorted and shook her head.

"Of course he did. He always hated that about me."

"Well men are often intimidated by intelligent, capable women. And you did used to get under his skin more than most."

Hermione chuckled rather fondly as she remembered the way he used to stare daggers at her in class when she excelled.

"Hence my surprise…"

Narcissa nodded and patted her hand in a motherly sort of way.

"You'll find that a lot about my son might surprise you," she whispered as if divulging a great secret. Hermione raised a brow inquisitively.

"Oh really?"

"Of course! Just between you and me, he always tried to live up to his father's standards, so to speak, but never could, because…well…Draco is nothing like Lucius."

Hermione frowned at the older woman's mention of her husband. Feeling stupid for even allowing herself to feel sympathetic about the deceased Death Eater, she still felt compelled to say something.

"Narcissa, I am very sorry about…uh…"

The blonde woman waved a hand dismissively, smiling a bit weakly.

"Oh no no no, please don't. You really don't have to say anything. My late husband tried to kill you and your friends, Hermione my dear, you should hardly be expected to feel bad about his death."

Hermione's brow furrowed and she stared uncertainly at the other woman for a long moment. She was debating with herself how much she should say, but for some odd reason she did actually trust Narcissa Malfoy. The aristocratic woman had a quiet confidence that she admired.

"Well then there is one obvious way in which they differ, because…" she began slowly.

"Yes?" Narcissa prompted. Hermione tucked her hair behind her ears nervously.

"Because Draco actually _saved_ my life."

Narcissa blinked a couple of times but otherwise didn't react. She didn't even look all that surprised. She did purse her lips a little bit as if pondering what to say, but her lack of shock was telling. Hermione narrowed her eyes a bit.

"But you already knew that," she guessed. It wasn't a question. She could hardly misinterpret Narcissa's distinctively calm behaviour. She was eerily similar to her son in that way. Eventually the other woman nodded.

"Yes, I must confess I did already know."

"How?" Hermione's curiosity was piqued instantly.

Narcissa looked at her with a bit of a wistful demeanour. She began to speak in a rather far-away voice.

"It was something he said as we were leaving the battle at Hogwarts. We didn't know where Lucius was, but I had managed to find Draco and convince him to return here with me to avoid any more fighting. My son was… scared, and he was angry with his father. He wasn't in his right mind," she sighed briefly, quite forlornly, before she continued, "Just before we were about to apparate, he was ranting about how the Dark Lord was going to kill him. He said that he had been acting on instinct and didn't mean to do it. I tried to ask him what he'd done, but all he said was ' _I had to do it, she was going to die'._ It wasn't until you turned up trying to help him months later that I finally figured it out."

Hermione shook her head hurriedly, letting out a huff of air.

"I want you to know, Narcissa, that I would try to help your son regardless of what he did for me," she vowed earnestly, "He doesn't deserve this. I'm not just repaying a favour and then disappearing as if that makes us even."

Hermione became a bit nervous as she thought about the life debt that had stirred up between her and Draco. She had considered mentioning it to Narcissa, but didn't want to overcomplicate the issue. And she was telling the truth. The tingling of the life-debt might certainly have motivated her in the beginning, but after hearing what had happened to him, and seeing his suffering in that prison, there was another, stronger force keeping her going. Her belief in right and wrong. Every time she saw him in that deplorable robe, looking thin and wasted, the feeling of compassion inside her was so acute it hurt like her heart was being split in two. She was still conscious of the life-debt; it thrummed beneath all their interactions. But she had enough self-awareness to hope that she was actually better than just someone who obeyed a life-debt. She _wanted_ to help him. She hated seeing him in there. So with or without the debt, she was in it to stay. As she pondered this, Narcissa clasped her hand again with a quick squeeze.

"I believe you, Hermione. I've only known you for just a couple of weeks, but already I know you well enough to trust your intentions. I didn't actually need Draco to tell me that."

Hermione nodded slowly, feeling instantly more at ease.

"You can write him another letter if you like. The warden doesn't seem to mind me taking him correspondence. Well…he minds, but there's nothing he can do about it."

Narcissa smiled warmly.

"That would be perfect, I'll write it now if you don't mind waiting."

"Not at all!"

Narcissa summoned a beautiful peacock feather quill and parchment.

"Would you like a cup of tea while I do this?"

Hermione grinned, recalling Draco's disbelief about her getting along with his mother.

"Sure!" she exclaimed, settling in with vague disbelief for another pleasant afternoon at the manor.

….

Draco was frowning down at the ridiculously fluffy scarf draped over the table in front of him. There was a moment of blistering silence between them as he stared at the offending garment. It was knitted in a striped crimson and yellow pattern. Gryffindor colours.

 _What the bloody hell…?_

The silence thickened, but slowly his scowl cracked little by little. Then he started laughing. He couldn't seem to stop. His bruised chest ached under the pressure of his hysterics. Hermione was blushing a pretty shade of red almost as deep as the colour of the knitted monstrosity between them.

"You've got some hell of a nerve, Granger!"

She smiled sheepishly and fiddled with one of the frayed ends of the scarf.

"I thought you could use the extra warmth."

"I think I'd rather freeze to death, actually…" he noted in a mild, slightly sarcastic voice.

"Hmmm interesting. I thought stubbornness was a _Gryffindor_ trait."

He scoffed at her words, still smirking and shaking his head as he stared at the woolly joke before him.

"No, you're thinking of interfering, do-gooding, single bloody mindedness!" he spat clumsily, trying to infuse every word with disgust, "Slytherins are all about self-preservation. And if I want to preserve my remaining dignity then I am _not_ wearing that."

"Any last requests?" she asked lightly, smirking back at him.

"What?"

"Well, if you freeze to death tonight then people will ask me what your final words were."

"Just tell them I died doing what I love-"

"Being a prat?" she suggested innocently, interrupting him. Draco chuckled again, wiping the tears from his slightly crusty eyelashes. His cheeks hurt from grinning. The more times she came to visit, the more he admired her spirit. He was starting to appreciate her slightly cheeky sense of humour. He had never realised she had a sense of humour before. She had always seemed so prim and serious when they were at school. But she was actually quite witty. And it was hard not to respect the strength of her determination, the stubbornness of her morals and of course her seemingly endless compassion. It was quite simple really. He was starting to _like_ Hermione Granger. Under completely different circumstances – or in a different world maybe – he thought perhaps they could have been friends. Hidden away in this isolated little interview room with just the two of them sitting talking together, nothing else seemed to matter. All that shit about muggleborns and houses didn't exist here, despite their teasing. It didn't matter that they had hated each other, or that he had spent six years being fiercely jealous of her. It didn't matter that he had always despised her at school simply for making him feel weak and envious. Staring across at her now, her hair braided back off her face, making her big brown eyes stand out, he was grateful for her companionship. And for her pity. Even if it made him feel a bit pathetic to receive it, he had realised from the very first time she visited that he needed her pity in order to survive this. At least someone would care what happened to him.

"Give me the damn scarf," he growled, ripping it from her hands and throwing it around his neck before she could make a joke. He loved how soft it felt against the cold, clammy skin of his throat. He wriggled around until it fell comfortably, then sat back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. He glared daggers at her, daring her to say something. But she was silent for a very long time. Then it was _her_ turn to laugh. He watched in slight awe as she actually threw her head back and giggled prettily, her dimpled cheeks and glistening eyes drawing his attention. Every time she was about to stop, she would catch a glimpse of him again, rugged up in that crimson and yellow scarf, and the laughter would start afresh.

It didn't take long before he was once more joining in.

….

"Oh come on, let me cut it!"

"No."

"Please, it'll be quick-"

"NO."

"It's so unkempt! Just a bit from the sides at least…"

" _Bloody hell!_ NO! You're not going anywhere near my hair with a pair of scissors, you insufferable witch! I might have been a bit crazy before, but I'm not quite suicidal yet."

"But if I just-"

"This conversation is over."

Hermione sighed, placing the tiny hair scissors back in her beaded bag. They were vibrating from heavily placed charms so that they would only work on hair, just in case she went psycho and tried to stab him to death or vice versa.

"You look ridiculous," she muttered under her breath, shooting a dubious glance at his ragged locks that fell in sharp lines around his face. Draco grit his teeth and glared at her for an endless moment.

"Fine," he spat, "But if you make me look like a bloody fool I'll come back and haunt you as a very ugly ghost for the rest of your miserable life after I finally rot away in here!"

Hermione grinned.

"Deal."

….

"So which one was your favourite?" she asked almost as soon as she sat down on her next visit. She had been dying with curiosity for too long and he hadn't brought it up at all in any of their regular meetings all week.

"Favourite what?" he asked belligerently, though by the reluctant gleam in his eye she thought that maybe he was just playing dumb.

"You've had those novels for a week, Draco! And I know you're a fast reader. Which one did you enjoy the most?"

He shrugged uncomfortably, but Hermione was feeling particularly tenacious today. She continued to stare at him with an inquisitive smile on her lips, which only made him squirm more.

"Does it matter?" he finally grunted.

"Yes."

"Why?"

She sighed and threw her hands up.

"Because perhaps if I knew which genre you preferred I could bring more of that kind instead of just choosing at random. I spent _ages_ trying to guess what you might like!"

Draco watched her suspiciously for a moment; he could still be a little doubtful of her sincerity at times, which was hardly surprising considering his general mistrust of anyone and anything. But she just returned his gaze openly, inviting him to discuss it honestly with her. Eventually his shoulders relaxed, if only fractionally.

"I liked…uh…the one about the muggle spy," he murmured nervously.

"Oh! Yes that one's quite famous. John Le Carré, right?"

He nodded. Hermione fished out a piece of paper and scribbled down some names of authors while they were fresh in her mind. She didn't want to forget later.

"Okay, I can bring some more spy thrillers. Anything else?"

He shrugged.

"Dickens was pretty good."

Hermione's eyes widened in interest, nodding along and writing down a couple more notes.

"I think I can arrange something."

Draco drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited for her to finish writing. She tucked the parchment away in her jeans pocket and leaned forwards, linking her fingers together and resting her chin on top of them.

"I spoke to one of your lawyers," she began in a low voice, and saw that his curiosity was instantly piqued.

"And?" his voice was wary, and Hermione flushed a bit before she replied.

"Um… well, I sort of stormed into their offices without an appointment and demanded to see the person in charge. They were pretty taken aback I think."

Draco shook his head in disbelief. He seemed to have brightened up at her story. She thought it was strange how he always seemed so excited when she was acting outraged. Maybe he was just amused by her antics.

"So what happened?"

"I barged into the guy's office – it nearly gave his secretary a heart attack. His name is Abbot Adams, by the way. Stuck up, rude, chauvinistic. Reminded me of you, actually," she said the last part in a teasing tone, and Draco snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Did you rip him to pieces then?" he asked.

"Oh yes. He barred me from his office and tried to revoke my special privilege to come and visit you."

She watched as Draco jerked upright in his seat. His eyes were wide and panicked.

"He what? He can't really stop you seeing me, can he?"

Hermione waved her hand airily and scoffed.

"Oh please. Kingsley would never allow it. He's got my back."

She saw Draco's momentary fear fade, smoulder and become a sort of dark scowl. She wasn't sure what it meant, but it was ominous enough to make her pause. She tried to recall whether or not he ever had any beef with Kingsley during the war, but couldn't.

"Um…er…" she stumbled for a moment, trying to regain her train of thought, before remembering a recent conversation with Narcissa, "Oh! So anyway, after I scolded them and was escorted from the premises, your mother and I spoke about it. She is considering changing your legal representation. Abbot Adams is hailed as being the best lawyer in the wizarding world, but I suspect a lot of that is just bought publicity. He's certainly wealthy enough to pay off the crooks at the Daily Prophet to make him look good. Your mother and I have started looking into other options. Lawyers with a little more ethical integrity."

Draco nodded, but his frown had only faded slightly. He was still looking at her through narrowed eyes.

"I'm worried about this apparent alliance you've formed with my mother," he commented slowly, but she noticed a faint smile twitching at his lips. She chuckled.

"Why does that worry you?"

She watched as he softened even further. She would almost say that he looked at her rather fondly. Well, as fondly as he was capable of with his naturally cool features.

"Because if you and my mother combined forces, I have no doubt you could take over the world together," he explained dryly.

"You may be onto something. I'll suggest it to her next time I go round for tea then, shall I?"

They both laughed, enjoying the moment of silliness. His moods were very changeable, but she was starting to read them better. They kept giggling until Hermione was struck by a sudden recollection and let out a gasp.

"OH!" She grabbed her bag and fumbled around with it as he watched her curiously, "I almost forgot! I brought you a loaf of bread! It's under a very mild warming and stasis charm so it'll taste like it's just been baked!"

He stared at the bread that she slid under his nose, and she saw him sniffing at it with a covetous gleam in his eyes.

"Merlin," he breathed lightly, "You've outdone yourself again."

She smirked triumphantly.

"You better brace yourself then, because there's more…"

She burrowed through her bag again and brought out a little muggle packet of butter.

"There!" she announced, placing it next to the bread and beaming at him. His mouth quite literally dropped open.

"Wow… _is that butter?_ "

She laughed, wondering if he'd ever seen butter in a little plastic container like this in his life. Probably not. It was unlikely to be served like this at all his pureblood parties and dinners.

"The simple things," she breathed with a satisfied smile as he tore open the bread and fumbled with the packaging to slop the butter onto the steaming bread. When he took the first bite he groaned and closed his eyes in delight.

"You're a bloody miracle, Hermione," he murmured around a mouthful of food and she flushed self-consciously. She _still_ didn't like the way he seemed to feel like he had to be grateful for every little thing she did. But given their circumstances she would just have to put up with it. She could try to redress the imbalance once he was free. So deciding to brush off her anxieties, she instead went back to watching affectionately as he wolfed down the bread, wondering what other food he might like that she could sneak past the warden.

….

"Why don't you mind your own bloody business?"

Hermione sighed and rubbed her hands over her face in frustration. He was having a bad day today. Every so often Draco would become grumpy or taciturn during her visits, but was never openly hostile like this.

"I'm trying to _help_ you," she responded firmly, appealing to him by reaching across the table, but he just looked at her with disgust.

"By sticking your ugly nose into my private affairs?"

His words stung a little, but she could tell he was also just being defensive. She tried to persevere and huffed out a breath, forcing herself to speak calmly. They had been going back and forth for almost ten minutes like this.

"I just need one or two character witnesses, it's not a big deal. Can't you think of anyone I can talk to?"

"Stay the hell away from my friends."

She pursed her lips and glared right back at Draco.

"You're being unreasonable."

"And _you're_ being an interfering little bitch!"

Hermione practically growled in frustration. He was being so difficult today. She had no idea why he was refusing to answer a few simple questions. Narcissa had transferred his defence to a different legal team and she was merely trying to assist them. They had allowed her to act as their proxy in visiting Draco and delivering news and relaying information. But he had been unexpectedly obstinate about it.

"Why are you making this so hard? Huh? Don't you want to get out of this place?"

He looked sullenly down at the wood of the table between them, not willing to meet her eye. When he refused to answer her, she threw up her hands and leaned back in her chair.

"If you want them to send someone else in here to talk to you, then fine. Just don't sit there are act like such a wanker about it! I was only trying to be helpful."

He flinched a bit, before she saw his jaw clench and harden and he looked up at her with a burning gaze.

"I never _asked_ you to come here," he spat huskily. Hermione stared at him sadly for a long moment. She had really thought that they'd make progress these last couple of weeks. He had snapped and snarled at her occasionally, but never this badly. She swallowed, nodding to herself as she realised that there was no reason in continuing this today. Draco needed some time to calm down and figure out how he wanted this to unfold.

"Okay," she murmured quietly, almost to herself, "I'm going to go then. If you won't talk to me then there's really no point in me being here."

"Then go," he hissed, his gaze fixed resentfully on her. Feeling upset and confused, Hermione silently rose to her feet and knocked on the door for the guard. She left without turning back to look at or speak to him again.

….

The second she was gone, Draco groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Whereas before he had been bitter and inexplicably angry with her, now he was simply filled with burning regret. He hadn't really wanted her to go. Why did he say that? He always obsessed over her visits, counting down the minutes and hours until she returned. He practically salivated over the precious time they got to spend together. So why had he felt the need to chase her away today?

If he was honest with himself, Draco knew exactly why. He was embarrassed. When she had started asking him for information about character witnesses, he had panicked. If he sent her to speak to any of his friends, he dreaded to think what would happen. What if they insulted her or called her a mudblood and shut the door in her face? As weird as it sounded, he didn't want her to think less of him. They had become weird sort of allies these last couple of weeks. And he hated the idea of her being reminded of who he used to be - the petty, bigoted boy of his youth. But he knew he had been irrational. He was just terrified about the thought of Hermione going digging around into his actions during the war and being disappointed in him.

 _"Stupid, stupid, stupid…"_ he muttered to himself, gripping his much shorter hair in both hands and clenching tightly until it was sticking out in all directions. He banged one fist onto the table, kicking himself for acting like such a fool. She might never come back, he thought darkly. He might have scared her off for good. And all because he was too pathetic to risk revealing the darker parts of his life to her. Hadn't she earned his trust yet? But he had always been far too insecure, especially when it came to her. She was so bloody perfect, miss goody-two-shoes Granger. And he wanted to be more than just the former Death Eater and current prisoner who she felt sorry for. After years of trying to be superior to Hermione, now quite suddenly all he wanted was to aspire to be her equal.

The sound of the guard forcing the door open to come and fetch him snapped him out of his morose thoughts. He gave the room one last wistful look back as he was escorted out, hoping fiercely that she would return and he could make amends.

….

It had been a couple of days since Hermione had left Draco and his bad mood behind at the prison. She hadn't taken his snapping too personally. She could only imagine what he was going through. He was entitled to a few grumpy moments to get things off his chest. But some of his comments had certainly stung a little later when she was reflecting on their interactions in private. Being called ugly and a bitch were never nice to hear, even if they were said out of defensive anger or desperation.

Hermione was nursing a mug of tea when Harry entered the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, his finely cut ministry robes draped handsomely around him. He was doing so well in his Auror program at the ministry and there was a new skip in his step. Of course she had always known that he would make a fabulous auror – he'd basically being doing the job since he was eleven! But every triumph he had or heights he scaled made her so proud. She smiled softly up at him as he sat opposite her.

"You look glum," he commented, summoning his own cup and pouring it to the brim from the pot she had brewed.

"Hmmm," she hummed slowly, cocking her head to the side, "Just lost in my thoughts."

"Care to share?"

She shrugged, fiddling with the ceramic shape of the cup she was holding.

"There's not much to say. Draco and I had a fight the other day. I guess it's just playing on my mind."

Harry raised a curious brow and smirked at her.

" _Draco_ now, is it?"

She chuckled and shook her head indulgently.

"It's a bit weird, I know, but I thought it was time to get over old rivalries. And calling each other _Malfoy_ and _Granger_ wasn't helping."

He nodded in agreement and took a careful sip of the hot tea.

"So what happened then? What did you fight about?"

She frowned slightly.

"I'm not sure."

"You don't know what you fought about?" Harry asked with a puzzled look on his face. But she just shook her head with a little sigh, not entirely sure how to explain it.

"Not exactly. I was trying to get some information from him for the trial about people who could vouch for him, but he got really snappy. Kept calling me a nosy bitch."

Harry raised one eyebrow curiously.

"That just sounds like normal Malfoy to me," he drawled slowly. Hermione managed a short chuckle but shook her head again.

"Not really. Aside from the occasional burst of insanity, he's been perfectly cordial to me since I started visiting."

"No kidding," he exclaimed in mild surprise.

"He's been almost friendly at times," she added thoughtfully, still trying to figure it out in her head, "I suppose he was just being defensive because I started asking about his friends."

Harry shrugged and put his mug down as he considered it too.

"Well that's hardly surprising," he eventually said, "I mean, look at who his friends are. They're hardly going to be reliable character witnesses. And they might not react well to the famous muggleborn Hermione Granger knocking on their door and asking lots of questions."

She took a few moments to absorb what Harry said. It made a strange sort of sense when put into that perspective. He hadn't been grumpy when she had first arrived, only after she brought up that particular topic. Hermione groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

"I was too pushy," she mumbled into her hands, her voice muffled but still loud enough for Harry to hear her, "I made him uncomfortable."

Harry laughed quietly and leant over to give her a pat on the shoulder.

"It's not exactly an easy situation. There's no textbook to help you figure out this one, you know. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Hermione ignored the jibe about needing a textbook and focused on what was important.

"I have to be hard on myself!" she insisted firmly, "This isn't like a class test or a bit of homework, it's somebody's _life!_ If I stuff things up and he refuses to see or speak to me, then he's going to rot away and die in that jail."

"Well then that would be _his_ fault for being so childish," Harry suggested, not entirely convinced with her obstinate words.

"No, Harry! It's not that simple. He's half-starved, isolated without any human interaction and nearly freezing to death. He has every right to be a bit irrational or guarded sometimes. Merlin knows anyone would be in those circumstances. But _I_ need to get better at handling him and myself so that we can work together. It's _my_ responsibility to be the rational one here."

Harry was quiet for a very long time, taking in her passionate little speech. She felt a bit flushed and guilty for ranting at him about this. He'd probably had a long day at work and the last thing he needed was her shrieking at him about Draco Malfoy. But he didn't look cross at all, just contemplative. He drained his mug of tea and sat back with a serious huff of air. He gave her an expression of mingled affection and sincerity.

"Hermione, you don't need to push him on this. If you need a character witness for the trial, then I'll do it."

Hermione's mouth dropped open in surprise. That was the last thing she was expecting him to say.

"Bu…But you…well, you hate him!" she stumbled, looking at him in confusion. He shrugged awkwardly and fiddled with his empty mug.

"I don't hate him," he admitted slowly, "We were both stupid kids back then. I was short-tempered and he was an ass."

"He's still an ass," she reminded him with a cheeky grin. Harry laughed.

"Yes, well… he didn't actually _do_ anything bad in the war, though, did he? In fact, he refused to do bad things. He didn't kill Dumbledore, he didn't reveal us to Bellatrix, he didn't try and kill us in the Room of Requirement. And then there's something even more important…" he trailed off and smiled softly.

"What is it?"

" _You_ seem to trust him. You think he's a decent person now. And that's good enough for me."

Hermione was deeply touched by his words. His genuine, unwavering faith in her was just the boost to her confidence that she had needed after moping about it for two days.

"You'll really testify for him?"

"Sure," he said with a rather blasé tone, "And who knows, maybe being vouched for by the Chosen One will pay off."

Hermione reached over and grasped her friend's hand tightly.

"Harry, I know you don't like using your name or reputation like that. Especially if it's going to be so public…"

"It's fine, Hermione," he reassured her with a squeeze of her hand in return, "I'll do it for _you._ You've always had my back. Even if I didn't appreciate it at the time."

Hermione giggled in agreement as he blushed a bit. She knew he was probably thinking of that rather awful time in third year when he hadn't spoken to her for weeks because she'd reported his new broomstick to McGonagall. Even though, based on the evidence at the time, it had been a completely logical decision.

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling a little emotional all of a sudden. Harry seemed a bit embarrassed by how deep their conversation had become, so he cleared his throat distractedly and stood up to head towards the kitchen.

"So what do you want to order for dinner? Chinese? Pizza?"

She smiled privately to herself, her determination renewed again. With the public support of the beloved Harry Potter, she was pretty sure her chances of freeing Draco just improved drastically. She nodded to herself, vowing to return tomorrow and persevere with him.

"Whatever you like, your choice tonight!" she called back, settling deeper into her chair and wondering how to approach their next meeting.

….

 **A lot of different kinds of Draco-Hermione interactions this time. What did you think of them? Please leave darling reviews!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

 **Another chapter ready! It's difficult to find time for writing while also working full-time. Sheesh. Tired. Hopefully you enjoy this new one – a lot of things are going down here! As always, JKR is a stone that gives eternal life!**

...

The storm heaved up around Azkaban Prison that day as if it were a deranged electrical surge, sudden and potent. Everybody was on edge. The flashes of lightening lit up the crumbling stone fortress like a kind of blinding madness. The waves crashing against the rocky island were furious, trying to tear down the magically enhanced structure brick by brick. When Hermione first appeared in the floo room, she stumbled out of the fireplace, her dizzy head spinning around as she clutched at the mantelpiece next to her. Maybe the currents in the air had disrupted the floo network somehow. It certainly wasn't helping to calm her nerves at all. Her heart was already pounding with the grim anticipation of what lay before her today. She felt stupid and very self-conscious. What if he was still angry and determined to be hateful towards her again? She wasn't sure she could endure another barrage of his insults. Hermione straightened the slightly skewed bell neck of her woolly jumper. Her hair was sticking out ridiculously from a messy bun, knocked and battered around by the unsteady floo trip.

 _Pull yourself together. You can do this._

She repeated the words to herself with an air of false confidence, ignoring the way her knees visibly knocked together. She hadn't been this anxious since the very first time she came to visit Draco. But strangely it almost felt like that first time all over again. She was going in there to meet someone who was openly hostile towards her, or at least he had been last time. And she had no idea what to expect. It was quite possible that all the progress they'd made together had been thrown out the window.

The Warden appeared in the doorway with blustering speed. He strode over to her quicker than she thought possible for such a squat man. The scowl on his face was heated enough to burn through her, and she swallowed. He seemed especially nasty today. Hermione froze as a thought occurred to her. Maybe he was meeting her here to tell her that the prisoner did not wish to see her. Perhaps he would turn her away because Draco was refusing to come to the interview room. Her heart, which was already pounding, seemed to throb and swell painfully as she waited for him to speak.

"You know the drill. Wand please," he snapped, and a small morsel of relief calmed her racing pulse. She wasn't being turned away. With clumsy fingers, she handed over her wand, watching it being placed away with a lingering glance of yearning. There were so many things she could do for Draco if she were permitted to have her wand. But this was one point that the warden seemed unwilling to budge on.

"This way."

The winding corridors were so familiar to her now, she realised as she traced the labyrinthine walls with her sharp eyes. It had been four weeks since her first visit and she had managed to gain entrance at least twice or three times each week since. She could hardly believe it had been a whole month, really.

The door to the same interview room was finally slammed open. Hermione twisted her fingers together, wringing them fretfully as she crossed the threshold into new territory. Her eyes immediately honed in on Draco, sitting slumped in the chair, his neck wrapped tightly in his dark green scarf. Although she hadn't been able to resist riling him up with the Gryffindor colours, she had been kind enough to charm the garment to fade to a more appealing forest green that he would undoubtedly prefer after a while. She was sure he had got a shock later in his cell when the fabric changed colours. But he hadn't mentioned it since.

Immediately Hermione went into survival mode. Although she was used to being a more openly emotional person, she forced a neutral, detached expression onto her face and sat opposite him. She may have appeared quite calm on the outside to someone who didn't know her well. She was actually quite proud of how serene she managed to look. But inside her mind was in turmoil. She kept remembering how foolish she had been and reminding herself not to push him this time. Her palms were clammy with sweat.

Picking a rather stubborn, passive-aggressive strategy to use, Hermione decided to stay silent, watching him with intense focus and waiting for him to speak first. Draco's head had been bowed sheepishly when she first entered, but he slowly looked up at her. His eyes were clouded with an emotion she couldn't pinpoint. It seemed a bit like dread. There was a heaviness in the air between them. He kept pursing his lips and taking breaths as if to start speaking, but couldn't. Finally he did. He leaned forwards slowly, deliberately, and made eye contact with her. His gaze was fixed and unblinking.

"Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott."

Hermione certainly hadn't been expecting that. His voice was low and rather sullen. She blinked in surprise.

"What?"

"Zabini and Nott… they could testify as character witnesses. Neither of them were involved with the Death Eaters and we were quite close at school."

Hermione nodded slowly, taking in his words. She was quite shocked that he had willingly brought up this topic again. But she was also reluctantly impressed. In typical Slytherin fashion he was communicating so much through this one simple statement. He was apologising for his bad behaviour from her last visit. And he was vowing to accept her involvement in his case in the future. A little warmth blossomed in her chest.

"Okay…" she whispered, and he relaxed a little when she didn't yell at him or scold him.

"I assume family members aren't allowed…?" he asked tentatively and she nodded in response.

"No. Family members are not permitted to testify. They're too close."

Draco nodded as well and they both paused a bit awkwardly. Then Hermione remembered what Harry had said the previous evening.

"Oh!" she exclaimed quietly, "Well, actually, I'm only going to need one person now. I've found someone who's willing to do it and may add some…uh, credibility."

Draco frowned.

"Who?" he asked sharply, although she guessed that he had probably started to figure it out in his head already. She tried to look as innocent as possible as she answered.

"Don't be mad…but, it's Harry."

She watched nervously for a long moment. He didn't seem to get obviously angry. His lips twitched a bit weirdly, but otherwise he stayed surprisingly calm.

"Potter actually offered to be a character witness for me?" he eventually asked in a disbelieving tone, looking very sceptical. Hermione nodded quickly with a reassuring smile.

"Yes! I didn't even have to twist his arm. He was the one who suggested it. I swear."

Draco's scowl darkened a fraction and he seemed to be thinking hard.

"I don't know…" he drawled slowly. She sort of understood what he was thinking. He and Harry had been rivals for so long it would be difficult to trust him now when he was at his most desperate. Maybe he suspected Harry of having an ulterior motive.

"Draco, I know you're not comfortable with him and that's fine," she said in a placating tone, "But having Harry Potter vouching for you could mean a lot for your case."

He was quiet a while longer, clearly pondering the issue, but eventually he pursed his lips and met her eye again.

"Why is he doing this? He hates me."

Hermione blushed a bit and shrugged.

"It's true. He's not overly fond of you. But he says he trusts me. And I believe that you can win this. That you _should_ win this."

Draco raised one eyebrow quizzically.

"So he's doing it for _you?_ "

She nodded slowly in response. He seemed to soften a bit at this revelation.

"Well that makes a bit more sense. He would never just do it for my sake."

Hermione smiled.

"Don't be so sure. He's an insufferable Gryffindor too, you know."

Draco scoffed and folded his arms across his chest with a resigned expression.

"I suppose I'll have to accept, then. It's not like I can afford to be too bitter about it. I need all the help I can get. If he's willing to do it then I won't stop him."

Hermione beamed, leaning forwards to sit closer to him, whereas earlier she had been a bit distant, physically as well.

"That's great, Draco!"

He frowned and gave her a warning look.

"This does _not_ mean that I'm about to get all friendly with him or anything, Hermione. I still think he's a tosser!"

Her grin only widened at his grumpy declaration.

"Well luckily for us he's not the one who needs the character witness."

Draco snorted and slumped back on his seat. Hermione watched him for a few seconds, feeling much lighter than when she had first entered. It seemed her fears were unfounded. He had immediately made amends for his behaviour and now it felt almost as if they hadn't argued at all. She could hardly hold a grudge against him when he was stuck in here battling his own personal demons every day with no companionship other than the memories from his haunted past. And she wasn't exactly the type to hold grudges anyway. It just wasn't in her nature.

While she was rustling around in her beaded bag for more fresh bread she'd brought, Draco sat ruffling up his hair and tapping his foot a bit nervously. He seemed overly anxious about something. He was biting down into his bottom lips so hard it had turned pink and angry. As she scooped the bread onto the table and searched for the butter, she paused to frown at him.

"What's wrong?" she murmured, observing him with concern as he fidgeted. Draco let out a long huff of air. He finally stopped tugging at his hair and slumped backwards.

"I shouldn't have snapped at you the other day," he whispered, not daring to meet her eye but rather staring fixedly at the loaf of bread between them. Hermione swallowed and tentatively put the butter down as well.

"You don't need to-" she started, but he interrupted her sharply.

"Yes, I do!" his voice was almost spiteful with its intensity, "I behaved badly and you deserve better. You were right. You were trying to help me and I threw it back in your face. I owe you more than that."

Hermione was silent, stunned. She had accepted his unspoken apology earlier quite happily, not needing any more than that. But this furious burst of guilt spilling from his lips was quite unexpected. She felt a little shiver go up her spine. Draco was trying desperately to not meet her eye. His hands were linked together, white-knuckled, in front of him and he continued to stare down at them. She noticed the slight trembling of his fingers. No wonder he was holding them so tightly. He didn't want her to see him shaking like a leaf. Hermione felt her throat clench and convulse with a wave of unbidden compassion.

"I forgive you," she said in a soft, meaningful tone, knowing that this was what he wanted. He didn't want her to deny his guilt or pretend it didn't matter. He was looking for catharsis, not useless platitudes or sympathy, which she might normally have wanted to express. So she kept it simple.

"You give your forgiveness too easily," he said at last, his voice a little lighter than before. His eyes finally flickered up to meet her gaze and she smiled softly at him.

"That's probably true," she teased, shrugging her shoulders a bit awkwardly. Draco's face then suddenly twisted into a strange rictus of misery that seemed close to pain.

"You could walk out of here today and never come back, you know, and I would consider the debt re-payed. For saving your life, I mean. And I wouldn't resent you for leaving. You have done too much already," he spoke quietly, purposefully.

Hermione's gut dropped unpleasantly and she squirmed a bit at the mention of the debt. But then she frowned, thinking carefully. From his rather oblivious words, she realised in that instant that he probably didn't know about the magical link forged between them. It was very likely he didn't know about the life debt she had been bound to. There was nothing in his tone of voice to suggest that he was speaking about anything more than a general balance between two people; an unspoken obligation that she wanted to fulfil in return for him saving her life. She took in a deep breath.

"No, Draco…" Not really thinking straight or pausing to reconsider, she reached across the small table, over the loaf of bread, and gripped his hands tightly in one of hers. She had thought, maybe irrationally, that she should comfort him somehow. That he needed to know where she stood. But Draco's entire body jerked suddenly in his seat at the contact. His eyes went wide, panicked. She felt him shiver underneath her touch but she didn't draw back. She only squeezed tighter, "You need to accept that I'm here to stay. It no longer matters what happened at Hogwarts, either before or after the battle. I'm going to help you regardless."

She wasn't even entirely sure that Draco had heard her. He was staring at their joined hands like she was consuming him with just the gentlest touch. Her hand twitched a bit nervously in response to his intent focus. She heard him take in a big shuddering breath, his brows drawing together tightly.

"Draco?" she prompted when he remained silent. But his mind seemed almost completely closed off from her in this moment, despite their skin-to-skin contact. She watched as he licked his cracked lips with an expression of extreme trepidation.

"Draco?" she asked again, and this time she allowed her thumb to stroke indolently over the skin of his tight knuckles, soothing him and trying to bring him back down to reality from whatever imagined world his brain inhabited at that moment. She was pretty sure her voice had not been heard, but he did tense up fiercely at the feel of her fingers gliding over his skin. He was dry and calloused against her soft fingertips. His face scrunched up in what looked almost like revulsion or fear, and he tore his hands away from her. He tucked them under the table and shifted restlessly in his seat.

"Did you bring any more books?" he asked brusquely, changing the topic without any warning. Hermione was taken aback. He had clearly been uncomfortable with the physical contact. She grimaced a bit, feeling strangely disappointed. On some level she truly believed he was no longer prejudiced against someone like her, but he had been so abrupt pulling away from touching her. Sighing and promising to consider it in more detail later, she reached once more into her beaded bag.

"I thought you could use a change, actually. I brought today's Daily Prophet."

Draco scoffed, clearly trying to regain his composure. He shifted self-consciously in his chair and ran a trembling hand through his blond hair.

"Great, now I'll have something to wipe my arse with."

Even though she was still feeling a bit confused, Hermione couldn't prevent the little grin from stretching her lips.

"That's usually all it's good for, I agree. But I thought you might find it useful to stay on top of current events."

Draco reached out a hand and quickly snatched the paper away, as if determined not to touch her or get too close again.

"That's not a bad idea. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I got a subscription, so you should receive them twice a week; the Monday and Friday editions."

Hermione felt a bit awkward then as he stared down numbly at the paper. There was obviously something going on here that she was ignorant of. She turned her attention back to the loaf of bread, preparing it for him with a pot of jam added this time to appeal to his sweet tooth. Taking a steadying breath, she pushed his odd behaviour to the back of her mind. She had to make the most of the time she spent here and try to avoid any more arguments. But what she couldn't push away so easily was the tingling in her hand that continued to linger long after she had left the prison.

….

Draco hadn't slept a wink that night. He was exhausted the next morning when the guard banged on his cell door to escort him to his shower, feeling more lethargic and depressed than ever before. It had been magnificent seeing Hermione yesterday afternoon, as always. She had brightened up his dreary, soulless week once more with her kindness and her charm. But something had shifted inside him this time, something that terrified him. First she had forgiven him so freely. Of course he knew already about the depths of her mercy, but it had still touched him deeply to see how quickly she accepted his apology after his cruel treatment. And then when she had reached across the table and touched his hand, stroking his skin with her thumb, he had convulsed violently. His whole body had reacted. And it wasn't just because of his isolation here in this prison. It was _her._

But that was where his confusion took over. He wasn't really sure what he was feeling; his mind and body were in turmoil. Draco slumped against the cold stone wall in the makeshift bathroom, the slam of the door echoing behind him. He rubbed his weary eyes. Just puzzling over this was giving him a sharp headache. The dark, internal conflict had settled over him like an icy blanket, tightening and constricting until it smothered him. He could hardly breathe. With tired hands he creaked on the taps and stripped off his filthy robe to stand under the lukewarm spray of the shower. Furiously washing himself with the soaps provided, he let his mind dwell on thoughts of her again. They had plagued him like bad dreams all night. In his feverish imagination she would sneer at him, walk away and leave him rotting in that prison. And no matter how loudly he yelled after her, she would not turn back to save him.

Since Hermione had left earlier the day before, Draco hadn't been able to stop picturing her vividly, urgently in his mind as if he could summon her with only the intensity of his thoughts. Her curls had been spilling around her shoulders like fine silk, and her eccentric mix of magical and muggle clothes had looked so endearing on her. She wore no make-up; she didn't need any. Her skin was like smooth porcelain. And when she smiled…Merlin, his heart nearly stopped sometimes when she smiled. She was very pretty, he realised, resting one hand against the wall and ducking his head. A strange flare of longing made him curl his body over and screw his eyes shut tight. He trembled at the sensory memory of her impossibly soft, dainty fingertips stroking him. Her touch had inflamed him. He had panicked and pulled away almost aggressively, fearing the intensity of his body's reaction to something so simple. He remembered it now, felt the ghost of her fingers on his hands, gliding over him like a forbidden caress.

Draco couldn't stop the involuntary groan escaping his lips. He clenched his hands into fists, begging the remembered sensation to go away and leave him in peace. He didn't want to feel this way. There was no way she could return it, so it was basically suicidal to let himself get so obsessed. But the sudden heat of desire in his groin was unmistakeable, as were the pangs of yearning in his chest. He wanted her. It was so simple, he realised at last. She had swept into his life when he needed her the most. And she was…exquisite. Draco shuddered in repressed lust, anger and hopelessness.

Feeling a twinge of masochistic despair, he reached down and pumped a couple of times on his hard length. He shook his head and almost laughed at the sheer madness of the moment. If she only knew what was going through his head while he stood here in the shower she had fought so hard to get him.

Time was running out, he thought with a resigned sigh. Draco got to work with a deranged purpose he had never experienced before. He scrubbed at his skin so hard with the soap that it grew raw and red. As if he could wash her scent from him completely. Because it lingered constantly these days. The blanket, the socks, the scarf. They all smelled like her. It was impossible to escape. So it was hardly any wonder that he was becoming painfully aware of her now. And his response was now becoming so primal, so visceral.

Draco shook his head furiously and kept trying to wash away all traces of the feeling of her from his skin. When the guard pounded on the door five minutes later he was fully dressed and slumped against the wall, feeling stupid and miserable and still painfully aroused.

As he was escorted back to his cell, Draco pursed his lips into a grimace of impotent rage. His determination to be free from this hellish place was so strong it burned in his gut like molten lead. Because there was nothing more pathetic than being stuck in here pining for someone he couldn't have.

His self-pitying, single-minded mood lasted all the way back to his cell, where it instantly vanished and turned to dread. Because the warden was standing there waiting for him. The portly man was rifling through his precious pile of books and other gifts with a look of utmost contempt on his face.

 _This can't be good…_

 _…._

Hermione had been happy to spend an evening with her beloved boys, eating trashy pizza and laughing about their fondest memories of Hogwarts. Harry and Ron were both coping admirably with the aftermath of the war. Although he had a lot of fame and glory on his shoulders now with the attention from the press, Harry was finally able to behave with relative normalcy. Such as getting takeaway and lounging around reminiscing with his friends, without having to worry about a murdering psychopath with his soul split into tiny pieces trying to kill him.

As for Ron… well, he was doing much better now. He was coping with the death of his brother with surprising maturity. Helping out at Hogwarts was clearly doing wonders for his sense of purpose. Too often Ron had felt like just a sidekick; the less powerful, less important comic relief of the Golden Trio. But from what she'd heard from Harry and Ginny, Ron was like a hero at the castle these days. He was respected and loved by everyone there; he'd obviously found a special niche where he could actually make a difference and step out from behind her and Harry's shadows. It was unexpected but very gratifying to see.

Before Ron had left to return to the burrow, he had pulled her aside. They had both been so busy they hadn't had a chance to talk yet. Smiling fondly at him, she had agreed to dinner in Hogsmeade the following night, looking forward to reconnecting with one of her closest friends without any of the awkwardness or jealousy that had plagued them before she left for Australia. And if she was being honest with herself, she was also very curious to hear about what was going on with him and Lavender.

Hermione sighed and closed her book. She was curled up in bed, feeling tired and a little bloated from all the food they'd eaten. She wondered briefly whether she should take Draco some leftover pizza. She could watch him enjoy it for a while and then reveal that it had been ordered and paid for by Harry Potter. That would be funny. He'd probably spit it out. Hermione chuckled to herself. She turned her thoughts back to the previous day when he had tugged his hand away so hastily from her touch. A little sting of disappointment remained from his actions. Had he really been disgusted by her? That didn't seem quite right somehow. Draco's hands had remained still all the time she was touching him; he had only panicked after she caressed him. Maybe she had crossed some invisible line of his. Hermione shrugged in confusion. She touched Harry and Ron all the time. Just tonight she had been snuggled up with them on the couch, Harry's arm around her shoulders. She would pat his knee occasionally or ruffle his hair. Was this not alright when it was Draco instead of Harry? Did he feel uncomfortable with people touching him?

Hermione let out a deep breath and placed her book on the bedside table. She needed to get some sleep; this was just giving her a headache. Maybe next time she was there she could test his boundaries and see where he drew the line. If nothing else it would help her figure out how much he trusted her and whether or not there was the possibility of them becoming friends. Feeling slightly better about the situation, Hermione snuggled down under the covers. She was strangely excited about the prospect of being Draco's friend. If she used a time turner to go back and tell herself this at Hogwarts she would have been horrified. But now… now it didn't seem so terrible. She actually felt energetic and happy at the thought. Draco was a complex, infuriating person, but that was what made him so interesting.

Tugging the covers up right under her chin, Hermione smiled softly to herself. It wasn't entirely conventional, but for once in her life she was embracing a little bit of glorious chaos.

….

The following morning found Hermione giggling non-stop, her sides aching as Draco read dramatically from the Daily Prophet. His eyes were warm, almost heated she thought, as he watched her laughing. She saw the way he kept glancing up at her in between each sentence. She wiped at her eyes as he went on to read how Mister Smithers of the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures had been arrested for smearing a colony of electric inugi worms in marmalade and trying to feed them to his dog. He was being accused of animal cruelty and suspicion of misuse of departmental funds. But it wasn't so much the story that was hilarious. It was the way Draco read it aloud. His voice was dripping with cold, unrelenting sarcasm. It was the kind of tone he had once used to insult her when they were at school. But now, directed at someone else, it was undeniably witty.

Draco paused in his story. His gaze drew up slowly from the newspaper to lock onto hers with startling intensity. His lips were still pulled into a sneer but it had softened. Hermione's smile faded a bit and she blinked in confusion. Her brows furrowed uncertainly when she saw him shift a bit and squirm in his seat. But before she could open her mouth and ask if everything was okay, he cleared his throat distractedly. His eyes shot back down to the paper and he kept reading as if he hadn't even paused. Hermione's lips twitched curiously at his odd behaviour, but she gave a little mental shrug and just decided to pass it off as another one of his weird quirks. Before long she was laughing uproariously again as he delivered the weather forecast in the most miserable tone she had ever heard, looking scathingly around at the bleak walls of the prison surrounding them. He sneered at the description of _"sunny"_ as if it were a curse word, and Hermione couldn't control an inelegant snort, which only seemed to delight him more.

This was clearly one of his good days.

….

 **Lovers Re-United**

 **Romantic Dinner Between Golden Duo Sparks Engagement Rumours**

Draco stared dazedly at the headline on the front page of his new Daily Prophet. He had to squint to see it through his slightly puffy, bruised eye. The warden had come back that morning. He had thrown the paper at him in disgust before making his displeasure known more physically. The paper had slipped to the floor, forgotten for a while. But Draco had been obsessed with it ever since the warden had left and he had been given a chance to read it. The edges of the paper were frayed and crumpled from where his hands had gripped it furiously. He had read the article so many times he could have recited it off by heart. And splashed across the page underneath the cringe-worthy headline was an enormous moving photograph of Hermione Granger leaning intimately across a private booth at a restaurant. Her hand was entwined with that of Ronald Weasley and on her face she bore an expression of deep affection towards the ginger.

Draco blinked, trying to push away the unexpected sight. He hadn't even had time to brace himself for the sudden news that Hermione was in a relationship. For some stupid reason he had assumed she was still single. Because in the back of his mind he had always thought she was too good for Weasley; even when he had looked down on her muggle heritage at school, she had been better than him. But this abrupt realisation felt like a bucket of icy water being poured over his head. It hurt even more than the remnants of the sudden beating he had received. When the back of the warden's hand had snapped his head back with a sickening crack, it had still been easier to bear than this vision in front of him now.

Draco's heart was pounding and his mouth felt dry. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the wretched paper. The photograph kept repeating on a loop. She would laugh gaily, her curls flicking around her shoulders, before leaning over the table and grasping Ron's hand, his own grin spreading brightly across his lips as he returned the gesture.

Draco snarled and finally worked up the strength to push the offensive paper away from him. He leaned back against the wall of his cell, feeling useless and suddenly spiteful. Things had escalated far too quickly, and he was reeling from the loss of control. Hardly any time had passed since he had finally admitted to himself that he had a bit of an infatuation with her; that he was attracted to her. And now the fierce sting of jealousy was eating away at him sooner than he was prepared for. It was almost frightening the speed at which his chest constricted and the old bitterness and grudges simmered within him. This shouldn't be happening! He had barely been able to define his own feelings towards her yet. Furiously, he kicked away the quilt she had sewn for him. The warden had threatened to take it all away from him and put it in the garbage, but had chosen to hit him instead. But with an irrational jolt of resentment, Draco suddenly wished the warden _had_ removed it. He didn't want to smell her scent right now. It was torture. All he could do was sit there, his head cradled in his hands, trying to erase the memory of that damn photograph. And desperately trying to push away the sense of hopelessness that consumed him, knowing that there was not a bloody thing he could do about it.

….

 **So… a LOT happened in this chapter. A lot of things progressed quite quickly. How do you feel it's evolving? Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

 **Another chapter – some more progression, some more chemistry! And a new character! I hope you enjoy this one. The plot will progress quite rapidly soon. As always, JKR is the owner of these interesting people!**

"It's not too hard to guess why you've come here."

Hermione squirmed from her seat next to the sun lounge. They were sitting out on a temporary patio that had been constructed next to the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. She had thought that talking to Narcissa the first time she visited the manor had been bad, but this was infinitely worse. Lavender Brown watched closely, her expression revealing a surprising degree of perceptiveness. The girl had certainly changed a lot over the last few months. Her face was thinner, her cheekbones high and bony but not as gaunt as she had probably been in the weeks immediately following the battle. Her hair was a bit longer than Hermione had ever seen it; it flowed down her back in shiny blond waves. But it was her eyes that were most changed. They were older; dull and much more weary with the world. A scar ran across one brow and down her cheek, marring her once smooth features. Hermione felt her chest constrict in sympathy.

"I'm so sorry, Lavender…" she began, leaning forwards and clasping her hands together, white-knuckled fingers entwining as one foot tapped nervously on the ground beneath her, "…the article and that horrible photograph were completely unfounded. Please believe me when I say that there is nothing going on between-"

Lavender's face had been entirely solemn since the moment she had arrived. The unexpectedly dignified girl had just sat there calmly while Hermione made an utter fool of herself. But now she held up a hand to stop her rambling and actually smiled. It was a cracked, weak sort of smile, but perfectly friendly.

"Hermione, stop. Please. You really don't need to make excuses."

"No, they're really not excuses! I don't like Ron in that way anymore. We're just friends, and the stupid writers at the Daily Prophet just-"

" _Stop!_ " Lavender raised her voice a bit louder, but this time she was actually grinning, "Seriously, it's fine! I'm not angry."

Hermione blinked in surprise.

"You're not?"

"Of course not, silly," she giggled softly, but not at all shrilly like she used to, "I _know_ you and Ron aren't seeing each other. And you're definitely not engaged for Merlin's sake."

Hermione was stunned. She had honestly come here today expecting Lavender to be upset by the rumours from the paper. She had dreaded getting into some kind of horrendous cat fight about it, but had wanted to come and apologize regardless.

"Oh…okay then…uh how did you know?" she stammered. Lavender shook her head with a fond smile.

"Because I love him, of course. And he loves me. Which means I trust him completely. I knew he wanted to talk to you about it and make sure your feelings weren't hurt. So when I read that article I just laughed. Typical Daily Prophet never bothers to get its facts straight. If anything I should be apologising to _you._ Ron told me you and he never really got a chance to resolve anything properly before you left for Australia. And I certainly didn't expect to fall for him again."

Hermione's shocked face stretched slowly into a smile. She had never heard Lavender speak so maturely in the whole time they were at school together. It seemed as though the remarkable change and growth Ron had experienced since the battle had not been an isolated incident. Maybe they really were good for each other.

"Oh no don't be, I'm actually really happy for you both," she responded quickly, and saw Lavender relax just slightly, clearly pleased that she hadn't hurt anyone by falling back in love with Ron.

"Really?" the blonde asked with a slightly sheepish smile.

Hermione nodded quite cheerfully.

"Absolutely! I think Ron and I together would have been a dreadful mistake. We'd kill each other. And Ron needs someone who will adore him and make him feel like the centre of their universe. I was always too critical, too harsh on him."

Lavender blushed.

"Thank you," she murmured, clearly understanding exactly what Hermione was getting at. And it was obvious that the other girl really did adore Ron. She always had, only now it was tempered with more sense and a healthy dose of reality.

"I'm just so pleased that awful article didn't cause any problems. Hopefully everyone who knows us will know it's all just a stupid lie."

Lavender nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure they will. Now, enough of these petty issues! I want to talk about the really interesting stuff…"

Hermione cocked one eyebrow up curiously. For the first time since she arrived, Lavender was looking a little bit like her old self. Just a little. There was an almost sly, probing look on her face that Hermione recognised from overhearing too many gossip sessions between her and Pavarti when they were at Hogwarts together.

"What is it?" she asked warily, and Lavender's smile turned almost predatory.

"Ron told me you've been sneaking off to Azkaban every few days to see a certain prisoner. Draco Malfoy if I'm not mistaken…" her voice was clearly goading, but it had none of the old edge of cattiness or jealousy she was used to. Just a conspiratorial sort of friendliness.

"Well yes, but I'm hardly _sneaking._ I'm helping him prepare his legal defence…" Hermione replied cautiously, not sure where this was going.

"Tell me," Lavender said with a hint of glee, "Is he still as cute as he was at school?"

Hermione couldn't stop the blush from spreading across her cheeks. She tried to bite her bottom lip and take a deep breath to control the instinctive reaction, but still felt the heat on her face and was sure that Lavender noticed it too. Because to be perfectly honest, she _had_ noticed recently that he was rather good looking. It had barely crossed her mind at Hogwarts; how could you find someone attractive when appearance shone through from the inside? And at school Draco had been foul tempered, spoilt and cruel. But now…

Hermione swallowed. Since she had bargained to obtain showers for him to clean him up, his attractiveness had increased dramatically. Now that she saw him as a real human being, with real pain and humour and affection, she did recognise handsome qualities about him. Particularly his alabaster skin, cool grey eyes and roguishly dimpled smile.

 _Stop that,_ she scolded her heart, which had decided to flutter inappropriately.

"I have no idea," Hermione stammered, having never been a particularly good liar, "He's thin and underfed, dirty, tired-"

Lavender tutted softly, shaking her head and leaning back stiffly on the couch. Her leg was elevated, revealing jagged scars and healing signs of mangled flesh where Greyback had torn into her.

"Nice try, Hermione. You think he's gorgeous."

Hermione threw her hands up, her lips tugging into a wry smile against her will. She had never really gossiped or shared heart-to-heart chats with other girls in her life. But it was hard not to relax a bit in Lavender's company. The girl was unexpectedly charming.

"Well I'm not blind," she grumbled folding her arms in front of her, "Obviously he is handsome in a sort of unconventional way. But I have a feeling you're after something more than just my objective assessment of his appearance."

Lavender chuckled. The girl rubbed her thigh with a little discomfort, but didn't seem too unduly bothered or in pain.

"Well, forgive me Hermione, but you do seem very, uh… _dedicated_ to winning his freedom."

Hermione frowned when the blonde gave her a meaningful wink.

"He needs help, it's not right what they're doing to him-" she began in her usual tone of outrage, having repeated these same words many times and to many different people.

"Oh please," Lavender scoffed, waving a hand dismissively, "That would require a couple of visits maybe, but not all these frequent, romantic rendezvous Ron told me you keep running off to."

Hermione blanched, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. She wondered whether other people felt the same way about the situation. Did everyone secretly believe she had some kind of crush on him? She shook her head in denial. Yes, he was handsome, quite sexy even, but that didn't mean anything, did it? They were weird sort of allies, friends maybe, but could never be more…

She raised her eyes to Lavender's once more and saw the girl giving her a knowing look.

"See? Told you," the other girl said triumphantly. Hermione snorted.

"Don't be ridiculous," she spluttered after a few moments, "Draco and I have way too much bad history, not to mention his general distaste for muggleborns…"

Lavender wiggled her eyebrows mischievously.

" _Draco_ , eh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, collapsing back onto her seat with a huff.

"Stop that," she scolded gently, "It's really not what you think."

But even as she said the words, she couldn't deny the way her heart had started to race again at Lavender's cheeky suggestions. Something had fallen strangely into place in her mind, but she couldn't identify what it was.

"Fine," the blonde girl sighed dramatically, "But I still think you've got naughty feelings for him and I can't wait to be proven right."

Hermione giggled, not sure why she felt so at ease with the other girl, but relaxing back into her chair more. They were silent for a moment before Lavender tilted her head to the side with a questioning look.

"You will come back and visit me again, won't you?" she asked in a quiet sort of voice. Hermione looked at her in surprise but did not hesitate before nodding.

"Of course."

Lavender grinned then. She leaned back on her sun lounge, dropping her head onto the cushion and shifting her bad leg around to get comfortable.

"Good. I want lots of updates. And in the meantime try not to star in any more raunchy articles with my boyfriend, please."

Hermione laughed at the unexpected quip.

"I'll try," she promised sincerely.

Lavender shot her a brazen look before shrugging one shoulder casually.

"On the bright side, at least darling Draco won't get the wrong idea about you two. I daresay he doesn't read the paper, stuck in Azkaban."

Hermione stared at her stupidly for a moment, her gut quite literally clenching with an unexpected, hard to define emotion. She felt numb for a few seconds before her pulse seemed to start up again with an unpleasant jolt. Her eyes went wider, almost round as she swallowed the dry lump suddenly forming in her throat.

"Oh dear _._ "

….

Draco stared darkly at the door to the interview room, waiting for her to walk through. He had probably been sitting there for almost half an hour. The warden had shoved him into his regular seat roughly, spitting into his face a hissed warning about keeping his damn mouth shut. Draco's scowl deepened when he felt the stinging of the bruise around his eye give a dull throb. There was also a split on his bottom lip that burned every time he moved his mouth too much. After the warden left he had just sat there watching that wooden door, counting the seconds as they ticked slowly by.

 _How will Hermione react…?_ He wondered with a cringe of anxiety. She could hardly avoid noticing his injuries. The warden had begrudgingly healed most of them so that he wouldn't get in trouble, but the portly man wasn't actually very good at charms as it turned out. And Hermione was sure to notice the shimmer of glamours and spells that had been cast on him.

Draco wasn't sure whether he wanted her jumping to his defence and cooing over his bruises. Normally he would have been keen for her to touch him gently and tell him everything would be okay. It was the kind of sweet intimacy he had been craving all week. But his mind was still replaying the sight of her in that photograph acting so sappy on her date with Ronald bloody Weasley. And the jealousy had been eating away at him like a disease. He felt pathetic, pining away for something that was clearly off-limits to him. And the worst part was that Draco wasn't sure he would be able to simply turn those new feelings off. As soon as she walked through that door, engaged or not, he knew that the butterflies would return to twist his gut into knots like they had been for the last couple of weeks. It's not like he owed anything to Weasley, either. He felt no strong sense of duty to honour their relationship since he despised that ginger buffoon. So what was to stop him from pursuing her anyway?

Draco snorted to himself. There _was_ something obvious stopping him. He was stuck in this hellhole of a prison and likely to be found guilty for murder and treason in a matter of weeks. That hardly made him an appealing alternative to her fiancé.

Draco dropped his head into his hands and quietly laughed to himself, thinking that maybe he was going even more insane now than he had been before Hermione first turned up to visit him. Fate was obviously playing a cruel prank on him. He had hated her for so long at school. But she had always been there, taunting him with all the qualities he admired in a girl, while at the same time defying the beliefs his father had forced onto him from a young age. She had been so present in his thoughts for so many years in so many conflicting ways, that it was almost too much. These new shades of desire, respect and affection were wreaking havoc inside him as he tried to come to terms with his situation. She was neither available, nor interested probably, and yet he still wanted her anyway.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and, without even looking up, he knew it was _her._ She smelled like a fresh breeze rushing in to cleanse this dank and dreary place. Terrified, he kept his head down, refusing to pull his hands away from where they were anchored in his hair or raise his face towards her. On one hand, he actually wanted her to see his bruises and for her to turn into the feisty little lioness that sent his pulse racing when she got protective. But he was also dreading the interaction that would inevitably follow and how it might test his self-control.

"Draco?"

She sounded strangely nervous herself; her voice was raspy and hesitant. Draco swallowed and worked up the courage to look up. He finally raised his head and met her eye. Hermione gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth in horror.

" _Draco!_ " she almost whimpered his name, rushing over to the table but not sitting down, "What did they do to you?"

Knowing that his injuries had been mostly healed, he attempted to shrug it off with a wry smile.

"It's not that bad. Just a reminder meant to put me in my place."

Hermione nearly growled. She slammed her beaded bag down on the table, a fierce glint in her big brown eyes.

"Don't lie to me, Draco. I can see where it's been charmed; when the skin turns slightly shiny like that it's a clear sign that someone has done a botched healing spell."

He didn't have any response to that. He had known that he couldn't fool her. Hermione was far too clever not to see the full impact of his treatment both during and after the fact. Instead he just waited, and watched warily as she huffed and started to dig around in her bag with impatient, furious sort of movements.

"Where is it?" she muttered, before giving a shout of triumph and pulling out a small bottle with a purple label and stopper. Then she fished around again and produced some cotton pads and a different, slightly thicker paste in a jar. Hermione suddenly perched herself on the edge of the table next to him, and Draco's body tensed up. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. He had never sat this close to her. Her light, summery shampoo filled his senses like a drug. When she reached out a hand towards his face, he panicked and flinched away.

"What are you doing?" he croaked, and Hermione lowered her hand with a sad little sigh.

"Let me help you," she said in a soft voice, "Please."

Draco's heart raced as they stared at each other. He felt himself get drawn into the depths of her brown eyes, and knew that there was not much right now that he would deny her. Silently, he nodded. He leaned his head back towards her and watched as she reached towards him again. His gut was rolling nervously.

Hermione's fingertips touched his chin, and his eyelashes flickered shut and open quickly. She used the soft grip to tilt his head to one side so that she could better examine the damage. When Draco lowered his gaze he noticed that she was biting down hard into her bottom lip. The pinkish flesh was darkening under the pressure of her sharp white teeth. She looked upset but determined.

"Okay, let's start with the bruises," she murmured, picking up the vial of what seemed to be Murtlap Essence. As she spoke, he felt her breath tickle his cheek and a shiver ran down his spine in response. This was exactly what he had been worried about, he realised. Draco clenched his hands into fists even more tightly, gripping the wooden arms of the chair in a vice. Self-control was vital.

Hermione wet a cotton pad with the Murtlap and began to dab at the bruise around his eye. She was so intently focused on what she was doing that Draco could absorb aspects of her presence without her noticing. He let his eyes roam over the soft length of neck looming close over him. He could practically see the thrumming of her pulse in the veins of her throat, and wondered for a brief, maddening moment what her skin tasted like.

Draco jumped slightly when she brushed his hair away from his forehead to better reach the full extent of the bruise. A few more moments of her gentle caresses were like torture, but eventually she leaned back, away from him again.

"That's much better," she commented softly, with a reassuring smile. Draco nodded in agreement. But his skin erupted with goose bumps when she took his face in her fingers once more and dabbed at his split lip. He hadn't been expecting the contact and he could hardly breathe for the few seconds that she lingered there.

Once she was finished, Hermione slowly got up from the table and walked around to the other side. She sat in her usual seat and Draco felt a pang of disappointment. She was too far away now. And he had quickly started to crave the touch of her skin against his. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. Staring at her with unconcealed intensity, he was surprised to see that her own cheeks were a little flushed. He wondered whether she was affected by the intimate contact as well. Hermione cleared her throat distractedly.

"Well…I'll leave the bruise paste here for you to apply. Twice a day."

Draco blinked and leaned forwards, resting his trembling hands on the table.

"Thank you," he said with as much sincerity as he could, even though his voice still sounded a little husky to his ears. She nodded, not quite meeting his eye.

"Don't thank me yet. I'm going to give that stupid wanker a piece of my mind. This _will not_ happen again! If I'm lucky I might even get the tosser demoted. Kingsley is most definitely going to hear all about this."

He chuckled, thrilled by her little rant of protective rage.

"I believe you will," he said fondly.

Hermione smiled too, before sobering quickly and cocking her head to one side. She looked like her mind was moving a mile a minute.

"Wait… why exactly did he do this?"

Draco pursed his lips but didn't respond. He blinked once or twice but otherwise remained stony faced. Hermione's eyes narrowed before she looked suddenly upset as she put the pieces together.

"He did it because of your special privileges, didn't he?" When Draco still didn't respond she raised her hands to her cheeks, fingernails digging into the skin in small crescent shapes. Her eyes were shining with guilt, "He doesn't like that I bring you things and make it more comfortable for you in here."

Draco was slow to answer, but he did eventually.

"Yes."

"He resents my interference. He thinks I'm undermining his position and stirring up problems for how he runs his prison."

"…Yes."

Hermione shook her head sadly.

"That little tosser," she groaned, "I can't believe he had the nerve to actually hurt you. He is going to pay."

The last bit was said in a firm, dangerous voice. Draco was pleased he was no longer one of the people at the mercy of her wrath. She was scary like this.

"Good," he agreed with a twisted smile. But Hermione didn't cheer up. Instead she grimaced and glanced down, ashamed.

"I'm so sorry this happened. It's all my fault…"

Draco snorted.

"Bleeding heart Gryffindor," he scolded gently, "It's _not_ your fault. You've been so kind to me…"

"And look what it led to!"

Draco shook his head in disbelief at her remorseful expression. This time he was the one to reach over the table and grasp her hand. She looked surprised but didn't pull away. He silently applauded himself for his boldness.

"I would rather receive a hundred beatings than trade the things you've brought me, and what you've done. They may seem small or insignificant to you, but they mean a lot to me."

Hermione took a few moments to blink away the tears that were gathering against her eyelashes. She didn't shed any; she was much too courageous for that. She just sniffed a bit and then gave him a wan little smile.

"Gosh, Draco…" she replied in a quiet voice, "You said that without even a hint of sarcasm or irony. I'm impressed." She gave a wet sort of chuckle, and Draco smirked as well. He managed to hold onto her hand a few moments longer before it would probably start to seem intimate or inappropriate. Then he released her. But there was no stopping the drumming pace of his heartbeat or the burning of his skin where they had touched.

Draco shuddered and clasped his hands together tightly, cherishing the tingling sensation that lingered there.

He didn't care if she was engaged to Weasley, he realised. And it didn't matter that he might soon be stuck in here for the rest of his miserable life. Right now, in this moment, he thought that maybe he was falling in love with her. And he had never felt happier.

….

Hermione stared at the papers spread out in front of them, feeling a little overwhelmed with all the evidence that needed to be collated. She let out a deep sigh and took another sip of the fancy tea that had been presented to her earlier by an enthusiastic house elf.

"This one could be useful…" she heard Narcissa murmur beside her and she turned her attention to the affidavit that the other woman was slipping across the table. She glanced at it and nodded, adding it to the pile on her right.

"Did Mr Kennard specify what would be accepted? The reputation of some of these witnesses might be questionable."

Narcissa hummed in agreement and tapped her finger against the folder they were putting together.

"He mentioned that if there are multiple witnesses or Death Eaters corroborating the same view of events then it would legitimise it, so their own crimes may not need to be taken into account."

Hermione clicked her tongue, wondering cynically whether the ministry would believe any Death Eaters at this point. There were a number of testimonies from other former followers of Voldemort describing the extent of Draco's involvement and his willingness at the time. But the Wizengamot were notoriously biased, and could likely dismiss any such accounts as unreliable. Hermione dug her fingers into her hair in frustration, tugging at a couple of knots from where she had been clenching it.

"Relax, Hermione," Narcissa murmured in a soothing tone, "You're too paranoid. This new lawyer seems to really know what he's talking about. Unlike the last ones…" her voice trailed off dryly, a frown marring her aristocratic features. Hermione let out a deep breath and grimaced.

"I know. Things are looking better. I guess I'm just nervous."

Narcissa nodded sympathetically.

"I am too."

Hermione picked up the folder of information and flipped through it quickly.

"I can't believe it's only two weeks until the trial starts," she began thoughtfully and the older woman actually smiled at this, "So soon."

"I'm looking forward to seeing my Draco," Narcissa crooned with a wistful expression, before pointing at something hanging up by the library door. It was a black wizarding robe draped over a navy blue suit, clearly an expensive cut. There was also a crisp white shirt and brown leather shoes beneath. "I picked him out a special outfit to wear to the trial. The court assistant said he can wear it instead of his prison robes."

Hermione smiled fondly. She could just picture Draco wearing the posh suit. She was excited to see him looking clean cut and comfortable in his normal classy attire.

"He'll love it," she said with a chuckle.

Narcissa shuffled some papers together and pushed them away into a neat pile.

"I think that's enough for today."

Hermione nodded in agreement and stretched her back, wincing as a few small pops sounded where it cracked.

"You look tired," the older woman observed, using her wand to summon another pot of tea. Hermione sighed and rubbed her face.

"I've been hounding people about the incident with Draco non-stop since I saw him yesterday. Let's just say neither Kinglsey nor I got any sleep last night. I wouldn't let it drop until he promised to take action."

Narcissa smiled wryly and poured another cup of tea for both of them.

"And your fiancé doesn't mind these late hours?" she asked with a sly quirk of her eyebrow. Hermione rolled her eyes and covered her face with her hands.

"Argh! That awful article!"

Narcissa laughed openly. The expression split her austere face and made her look much more relaxed and friendly.

"So I take it you're _not_ engaged?"

Hermione shook her head vigorously.

"Merlin no! They completely misunderstood that entire thing!"

"But you and the Weasley boy are a couple, aren't you? I remember the gossip that circulated just after the battle. And these romantic dinners…"

She snorted and folded her arms in front of herself.

"No no no. We're just friends. Trust me. Ron and I are not currently and will never be together."

Narcissa watched her carefully, but Hermione just looked innocently back at her, giving a little shrug. They were silent for a moment before the older woman smiled affectionately again.

"Good," she commented lightly, making Hermione frown in confusion. But at that moment they were interrupted by a house elf dressed in purple sequined clothes and bearing a tray of sweet and savoury pastries. Her questions soon faded as the delicious smell filled her nostrils and she wondered when was the last time she had eaten. As she tucked in, what she didn't notice, however, was the discerning, almost satisfied looks that the Malfoy woman kept shooting her way.

….

 **So that's another chapter. The trial is certainly starting soon, and their feelings are progressing slowly. Too slowly? Too quickly? I'm not sure, but I have some vague plans in mind. Thank you for following this story and please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

 **I'm glad so many people are happy with the pacing. For those who find some of my expressions strange I am actually from Australia, so sometimes I can't help using words that are specific to my own vernacular. Sorry! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new chapter. Please leave reviews…**

 **….**

Draco watched very closely as a few documents were placed on the table before him. Hermione organised them meticulously, before fishing out an everlasting quill and sliding it over the top of the parchment. He smiled wryly at her fastidious behaviour, but realised his heart was fluttering nervously as well. Although she had greeted him cheerfully enough when she came in, Hermione had not actually met his eye yet. It was unusual for her to be so withdrawn. She typically came racing in with guns blazing, checking his health and wellbeing and ranting about everything that had taken place since she last visited. She was like a furious little firework waiting to burst at any moment; spitting out sparks as she swept in. But today she seemed a bit unsettled. Her head was ducked down and her bottom lip was clenched tightly in her teeth.

"What's all this?" he asked, keeping his voice upbeat and trying to draw her out of her shell. She eventually took a deep breath and raised her head, meeting his gaze with a smile. She didn't seem upset, but there was a faint blush to her cheeks. He thought it made her look adorable. She seemed… _shy,_ somehow.

"Oh! Well… I've brought over copies of the notes for the opening arguments, witness lists, and general strategy for our rebuttal. But most importantly, I have some guidelines the lawyer wrote out for _your_ testimony."

Draco nodded quickly in acknowledgement. But for some no doubt foolish reason, he felt more curious about the pinkish flush on her face than the notes lying before him. He smirked wryly as she fiddled with the documents, straightening them unconsciously and waiting for him to say something. When he remained silent, just staring at her to gauge her reactions, he noticed the way her blush darkened and she squirmed a bit in her seat.

 _Maybe she feels this attraction too…_ he thought with a sudden thrill that crept up his spine and made him shiver.

He watched her closely for another moment. Hermione always revealed too much emotion on her face. He could so often tell what she was thinking because it was painted all over her features. But Draco was struggling to pinpoint exactly what was going through her mind now. Merlin, he wanted her to share his feelings so badly it was like an ache deep in his chest that was getting sharper every second he stared at her. Surely her shy behaviour and her steadily rising blush meant something.

Then Draco shook his head minutely. He grit his teeth together and let his hands curl into tight fists. It was all useless if he ended up stuck in this damn prison, he thought bitterly. As long as he was imprisoned in this dank, desolate place then he had no hope. Feeling renewed determination, he dropped the heated, almost confused gaze that they had been locked in for that timeless moment and turned his attention to the notes in front of him.

"What is he recommending I say?" he asked, unable to avoid the slightly husky edge to his voice. Hermione nudged forwards one of the documents.

"He says you should focus on two things; your initial unwillingness to join the Death Eaters, and the threat to your parents' safety if you failed. He thinks they'll go after you for what happened with Professor Dumbledore mostly. He's become this big martyr figure at the ministry since the war. Which is ironic considering how spitefully they criticised him the last few years. _So_ we need to make sure they know you did not freely intend to murder him."

Draco grimaced uncomfortably. He considered the notes before him, which Hermione had just summarised, and tapped his fingers anxiously on the table.

"Surely with everything that happened in the war afterwards, _that_ is the one crime for which I'm actually guilty," he muttered worriedly.

Hermione cocked her head to one side and frowned in confusion.

"But you're not. He would have killed your parents if you didn't obey him."

Draco shrugged awkwardly.

"Yes, but there's no proof of that. It's just my word, which means shit."

Hermione smiled self-consciously and looked down quickly.

"Well, actually… that's where Harry comes in."

Draco scowled.

"What's Potter got to do with it?"

"He was there, that night on the astronomy tower. He was frozen and hidden under an invisibility cloak. He saw your whole conversation with Dumbledore."

Draco's eyes widened in surprise. He had thought that he had been alone that night, before the Death Eaters turned up. Which meant that Harry bloody wanker Potter had seen him break down and cry in front of the headmaster. That was mortifying, he thought. But it also explained something else that had always troubled him. When Potter had chased after them he had yelled at Snape and immediately tried to attack him in revenge for the murder of Albus Dumbledore. At the time Draco remembered being surprised that he had figured it out so quickly when there had been no one to witness it. But now it all made a strange kind of sense. His shoulders drooped and he rested his chin on his hands as he leaned over the table.

"Of course Potter saw it. That's just bloody perfect," he drawled, feeling extremely embarrassed. It seemed that all the miserable, humiliating details of his life were about to be paraded out in front of the wizarding world soon. Hermione smiled sheepishly at him, the sympathy clearly shining from her eyes.

"Well at least with Harry's testimony about your state of mind at the time of Dumbledore's murder they'll probably believe that you were acting against your will. He is their precious Chosen One after all."

She said the last part a little sarcastically and he let a smile tug his lips. He was savagely pleased that she didn't believe all that crap about Potter being some kind of divine saviour, which was an idea that had circulated around the wizard community shortly after the final battle. But then, Hermione was very unlikely to believe in such irrational nonsense. And she was right too. If it worked in his favour then he may as well use it.

"Alright, so how do I prove that I didn't want to be initiated in the first place then? Anyone who knew me at the time would have heard me boast about it. Including Blaise and Theodore. They all thought that I was proud to become a Death Eater. I wish I hadn't been such a bloody great actor now, though."

Hermione's brows drew together in concern. Then, once again, she caught him by surprise. She reached over the table without him expecting it or giving him an opportunity to react. He didn't have time to pull away. A crawling hunger flared up over his skin as her soft fingers wrapped around his wrist. Then she pushed up his sleeve slowly, revealing his forearm. Her hand brushed so gently over his Dark Mark as it was exposed to the cool air, that it made him twitch and stiffen. In almost three years no one had touched it. It had been a brand of shame, rage, helplessness and pain. It had been hidden away so that regular people wouldn't be revolted by it. Every time he saw the grotesque mark, it made him feel physically ill. But now her warm hand was gliding over it soothingly and his body reacted in a visceral, primitive way. He was fiercely pleased he was sitting down behind the table, because the most overwhelming feeling assaulting him in that moment was pure, unadulterated arousal.

She let her fingers trace over the shape of the skull briefly, a sad look on her face. Draco swallowed and watched her carefully. The sight of this kind, beautiful muggleborn caressing his Dark Mark was almost too much. He blinked hurriedly when he felt a tell tale prickle behind his eyes. Every horrible memory of their days at school flashed through his mind at once. He wished he could erase it from existence. But as remorseful as he was over his past behaviour, she had never held it against him or acted bitterly about their history. Draco drew in a shaky breath and felt his muscles clench instinctively under her touch.

But then her grip changed.

"Because of this."

She turned his wrist over even further until it was facing directly up. His pulse started to race in shocked dismay as she stared pointedly at the _other_ mark on his arm. With a visibly trembling hand, Hermione took one finger and ran it carefully down the angry, purplish scar that cut straight down the middle of the Dark Mark. Its edges were raised and shiny from years of healing but it still stood out distinctively against the pallor of his white skin. Draco sat and stared at the steady motion of her finger in horror for a few seconds before he ripped his arm away from her as if it had been burned. A wild fury rose up quickly within him.

" _Don't,_ " he spat, more harshly than he intended. Hermione blinked, but met his stormy gaze quite calmly.

"You tried to get rid of it," she murmured quietly, her voice soothing and without even a trace of judgment or scorn, "That's how we can convince the Wizengamot that you didn't want this. You tried to cut off your Dark Mark."

Draco's teeth started to ache from grinding them together so roughly. He sat there glowering at her for a long, heated moment. But she didn't even wince at the intensity of his rage this time. She just sat there serenely, her hands still placed flat on the table between them from where she had reached over to him. Draco felt some of his resentment begin to dissipate in the face of her calm composure. In its place came a nagging curiosity, since he had always tried to partially hide the mark from her sight during her visits. He didn't want _anyone_ seeing it really, and least of all her.

"How did you know?" he asked, his voice still sounding rather husky from anger, but not as biting as he had feared. Hermione gave him a sad little smile.

"Your mother," Draco's eyebrows rose in surprise at this revelation before she continued, "She told me about it when we were gathering evidence for the case. She became…very upset when she recounted the story."

Draco nodded numbly, anxiously shaking his sleeve so that it fell down to cover the mark and scar once more. Hermione seemed to be waiting for him to say something more, so he took a shaky breath and ran his hands nervously through his hair.

"Tell me," Hermione insisted softly. She wasn't pushing him into a confession or anything; she was just letting him know that she was ready to listen if he wanted to talk. Draco felt a small swell of confidence.

"It happened not long after I was initiated. I was distraught. The things I saw that night…well let's just say I don't think I'll ever really recover from it. The nightmares still haunt me even now."

His eyes flickered up to meet Hermione's, uncertain about what exactly he should say or how much of his pathetic past he should lay open to her. But one glance into her warm, impossibly deep brown eyes gave him the courage to continue. This time he didn't need to look down. He stared straight back at her as he spoke.

"I got blind drunk one night. Broke into father's whisky cabinet. I just wanted to forget for a while. A lot of that evening is a blur. But I do clearly remember the exact moment I broke the mirror in my bathroom. I smashed it in a drunken rage, and the glass was everywhere. Then I had this stupid idea that if I could just get rid of the mark then I could somehow escape and make it all go away. I grabbed a piece of the mirror and tried to cut into it. One of the house elves found me passed out halfway through, slumped in a pool of my own blood, and fetched my mother."

His voice had become a faint croak by the time he finished. He watched with a sort of pained interest as Hermione blinked rapidly. She was obviously trying not to let any tears fall as her eyes turned a bit misty. She was a good listener. He sat back in his chair and let out a heavy breath. He had never told anyone that before. It felt strangely cathartic to say it out loud. He waited for Hermione to say something, not really sure what one was supposed to say after a story like that. It took her a while, but eventually she drew in a long, steadying breath and spoke with about as much conviction as he had ever heard from her.

"Harry told me about that night on the astronomy tower. He said that just before the Death Eaters arrived you lowered your wand. Despite everything you weren't going to kill Professor Dumbledore."

Draco nodded, acknowledging what she said. Although at the time he had suffered the stigma of being called a coward, it was indeed true that he had backed down from the murder when confronted with the headmaster in the flesh. But he wondered why she had chosen to reveal this little piece of information now. He waited as she composed herself before she continued.

"I meant it when I said you don't deserve to be in here," she said quietly, so soft he had to actually strain to hear her, "And I am so sorry that you had to go through all that. You were just as much a victim of this awful war as Harry, or me or anyone else who suffered at the hands of Voldemort."

Before he could deny her comment – since he knew for certain that he was far more guilty and deserving of punishment than Hermione herself could ever be – she flipped her own hands over.

"Look," she commanded softly, drawing his attention to the little white scars scattered on her palms. He frowned and leaned closer, noticing that they were half-moon, crescent shapes. He studied them for a few moments in confusion before noticing the pattern and realising that they were eight almost identical scars made from eight different fingernails. Before he could ask about them, Hermione cleared her throat anxiously and spoke again, "I got these the night I was tortured by Bellatrix at the manor…" Draco's eyes darted up in alarm at this. He felt his gut twist with a wave of nausea that was almost crippling in its intensity. "…I clenched my hands so tightly when she used the cruciatus that my fingernails tore through the skin."

Draco felt like he wanted to be sick. He had been present at this torture. He still heard her screaming sometimes at night when he was alone with just his memories. He had stood to one side uselessly while this happened to her.

"I _remember_ that night, Draco. After we escaped I spent some time healing from those injuries. But I hardly recognised the physical pain. All I could think about was the look on your face as you watched me. It was terror. You were terrified."

Draco's throat felt raw, and it burned as he tried to swallow. His gaze kept flickering between the neat little row of scars on her palms and her beautiful brown eyes. Eventually he nodded, confirming what she said. She smiled shakily.

"That's why, when you picked me up in the Room of Requirement that night and carried me away from the fire, I trusted you," she added quietly.

Draco licked his cracked lips and went to speak. It took a couple of tries to get his voice working properly as it felt as though all the air had been sucked from his lungs.

"That's why I saved you," he murmured back at last, "Because in that moment, I knew I couldn't just stand by and watch you in pain again without doing something. "

Hermione's lips tugged upwards into a tremulous smile.

"Thank you."

He noticed when he glanced down that her hands were still presented in front of him on the table. They were quivering. He acted without pausing to worry about his imprisonment, her fiancé or their tense history. He just wanted to reach out to her somehow. With no contact with any other human being in here, he thought about her constantly. And the few times he had been lucky enough to touch her was something he obsessed about.

Draco gently took one of her hands in his. He raised it into better light and inspected her little fingernail shaped scars closely. With one thumb he brushed over the raised edge of a scar and delighted in the shudder that he felt pass through her body. In a small corner of his mind he briefly wondered if his infatuation would fade once he left the prison; _if_ he was released. But somehow he doubted it. These weren't the feelings of someone in desperate isolation clutching onto some surrogate object of affection. Hermione intrigued him in every way possible: emotional, intellectual and physical. The intensity of his desire for her could never be diminished by something so simple as freedom.

Although overwhelmed by these thoughts of the girl sitting across from him, whose hand he was currently caressing, Draco felt strangely calm. Without a care for any other factors, he lifted her hand higher towards him. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips ever so softly to her palm, right over one of the white crescent lines. He heard her breath catch in her throat and her hand shook a bit under his mouth. Despite the rough marks there, he could still feel how soft her skin was against his lips. And the scent of her light, airy perfume wafted up from her wrist where she must have sprayed it. It was intoxicating.

While his lips had only just brushed against her before, he now kissed her scar properly. He took his time, relishing the heady moment and drinking her in. His eyes flickered up to her face and saw that she was staring fixedly at her hand. He read a lot of confusion in her expression and she was also biting down hard into her bottom lip. He opened his mouth to say something, still lingering over her, when the sound of the door interrupted them.

The usual guard barrelled into the room with clumsy enthusiasm. Hermione jolted in her seat and hurriedly pulled her hand away, trying to discreetly pretend that she was gathering up the papers before her. But Draco could see suspicion in the guard's beady eyes. The man looked between the two of them with far too much wariness and mistrust. But he didn't say anything. He just pursed his lips and gestured brusquely for Hermione to leave. If he had thought she was flustered when she arrived, Draco noticed that now the curly haired Gryffindor was positively agitated. She bundled up all the documents and shoved them into her bag, breathing heavily and with her gaze lowered. Draco fiddled nervously in his seat under the glowering glare of the guard.

Finally as she stood and went to leave, Hermione turned back to look at him. He swallowed and felt his heart skip about a hundred beats. She blinked a couple of times, slowly, and tilted her head to one side to observe him. Realising that she was seeking some kind of reassurance, he smiled faintly. Draco was not used to showing his emotions, but he tried to make the smile as sincere and warm as possible to show her that he meant no harm. There was a painfully long moment where nobody moved or spoke. The guard did shift impatiently next to them but they just remained frozen, gazes locked. Finally she returned his smile, albeit for a very brief moment. Draco's heart thudded to a grinding halt and took in every detail of her sweet face in those split seconds, knowing that they may never occur again. She'd probably go home and start feeling guilty about whether she was betraying that moron Weasley and then she'd put up her most defensive walls to protect herself. But right now he wanted to revel in the simple knowledge that she wasn't disgusted by his kiss. As she turned to leave the room, Draco let out the deep breath he had been holding, not realising that his lungs had started to burn. Something had erupted inside him with that tiniest glimpse of a smile; it was _hope._

Draco smirked to himself and leaned back in his chair. Despite every reason to be weighed down by the deepest depression in this place, he was feeling much lighter than before. Maybe he actually stood a chance with Hermione Granger.

….

"Harry, we need to talk."

The messy haired boy paused with the fork halfway to his mouth, looking surprised at the seriousness in her tone. Hermione sighed and leant forwards on her elbows, pushing her plate to one side and regarding her friend solemnly.

"Uh oh. This sounds worrying…" Harry began, placing his fork back down in the middle of his mashed potato and casting a quick stasis charm to keep their food hot.

"I want to ask you something," Hermione began, watching the Boy-Who-Lived carefully and wondering how she was supposed to phrase her question and whether he would actually understand or just laugh it off. Harry raised one brow quizzically as she paused.

"Wait, is this why you offered to make a nice home cooked meal tonight? You wanted to butter me up first?"

Hermione smiled a bit sheepishly at his surprisingly astute observation.

"Maybe."

Harry chuckled.

"Okay then. Fire away."

She gathered her thoughts for a moment before she spoke again. There were hundreds of ways she could phrase the question, but eventually she settled on just saying it straight.

"What can you tell me about life debts?"

Whatever Harry had been expecting, it obviously wasn't that. His eyes widened and he even dropped his mouth open in a slightly clichéd, comical expression. But her amusement was mostly drowned out by the anxiety that had gripped her since earlier in the day. When Draco had kissed her hand.

 _Oh Merlin…_

She shook her head furiously to get rid of the image, pleased that her friend hadn't seemed to notice her momentary distraction.

"Hermione," he said slowly, clearly thinking hard, "What's happened? Are you worried Malfoy will owe you a life debt because of what you've done to help him?"

Hermione bit down into her lip briefly, trying to stem the slightly mad, irrational giggle that bubbled up, wondering how Harry had become so perceptive. He just had a way of guessing so close to the truth far too easily; something that made him a valuable auror no doubt.

"Not exactly," she muttered uncomfortably, and he narrowed his eyes at her in response to her vague words.

"Hermione-" he warned and she released a breath of resignation.

"No. He doesn't owe me a life debt, Harry! I owe _him_ one."

She could quite literally hear the clock on the mantel place ticking for five painfully slow seconds before Harry seemed to absorb what she was telling him. He frowned and she saw his eyes rove back and forth as he considered it in his mind before shooting her a horrified stare.

" _That's_ why you're helping him?" he asked with a tone of mild disbelief, "Because you're being forced to honour a life debt?"

Hermione blinked and shook her head quickly.

" _No,_ it's not like that!" she hurried to explain.

"Then what's it like?"

She ran her fingers tiredly through her curls, uncaring that they were probably looking like a bird's nest by now. She had been going crazy since she left the prison earlier, and her hair had suffered from repeated abuse at the hands of nervous, twitchy fingers.

"I knew almost from the moment he saved my life in the Room of Requirement that a debt had formed. I could _feel_ it, right then and there! When I came back from Australia I felt compelled to go and seek him out, and it led to me visiting that first time in prison. But now…" she gave a little groan and rested her chin in her hand glumly, "Now I keep going back for my own reasons. I actually want to help him on my own with or without the debt. But I don't know how the debt will respond to my intentions. I've undoubtedly helped him, maybe even saved his life in return, since without the proper sanitation and food I've supplied to him he may have gotten really ill."

"And it hasn't gone away?" Harry asked, clearly confused. She shook her head in the negative.

"No. It's still there. And it's almost like it's…uh… _sentient._ "

"Huh?"

"It _reacts_ to things."

Harry narrowed his eyes and leaned forwards in an almost identical pose. He looked at her warily for a moment before asking the question she had been expecting and dreading.

"What kinds of things?"

He looked like he might know the answer already, but nevertheless she blushed and pursed her lips with an embarrassing grimace before she replied shyly.

"I think I might have some slightly more than platonic feelings for him. And then today…he…uh…"

Harry looked slightly sick at the turn in the conversation, but he still managed to keep it together for her sake. But at the last part he scowled.

"He did _what?_ "

She almost laughed at the dangerous look on his face, and quickly waved a hand dismissively to deter him from wanting to fan the flames of his distrust of Draco.

"Nothing so drastic, Harry! He was just touching my hand, and then he…uh… kissed one of the scars on my palm."

Despite her reassurances, Harry actually looked murderous.

"You mean the scars you got when his aunt tortured you? When he just stood there and watched and did nothing?"

Hermione clicked her tongue impatiently and shook her head.

"Don't start that argument again! Merlin's beard, Harry, what was he supposed to do? Take down five deranged Death Eaters, three of whom were related to him and whisk me away?"

Harry went quiet at her reprimand, clearly still not happy with her defensive explanation.

"It doesn't matter how I got the scars, anyway. That's not the point here!"

He blinked and nodded, obviously pushing away his general dislike of Malfoy for a moment to concentrate on the matter at hand.

"You said the life debt reacted to him kissing you?"

Hermione chuckled dryly as Harry was forced to say the words with a look of sickened contempt on his face. She nodded slowly.

"Yes. It sort of flared up for a moment. I didn't realise life debts could behave like that."

"Neither did I," he agreed, shaking his head uncertainly. Hermione felt her heart skip a bit with disappointment.

"So you never experienced anything like this with yours? Both Snape and Pettigrew at various times owed you a life debt, didn't they?"

Harry looked intently at the table between them, considering the question.

"I'm not sure it's the same," he replied eventually in a thoughtful voice, "I was the recipient of both those debts, not the one who owed it. And I didn't feel _anything_ , really. The only reason I knew about any kind of magical debt was because people had told me. Like Dumbledore."

Hermione sighed. She ran her fingers through her hair again.

"You didn't know? You couldn't feel it _at all?"_

 _"_ Nope. I had no idea! _"_

 _"_ It didn't make you feel more connected to them or anything?"

"No. Definitely not."

Hermione let out a little breath of relief at that. She had actually been really concerned that Draco's behaviour was some kind of messed up response to the magic of the debt; that he was only drawn to her because of the bond between them. But it seemed as though maybe he wasn't even aware of it or influenced by it at all, if Harry's experience was any indication. The brief idea that maybe Draco had actually _wanted_ to kiss her flickered happily through her mind. She ignored it.

"So what do I do?" she asked in a croaky voice

His frown deepened in response and he took in a long, audible breath.

"Well let's think about this…" he began, scratching his nose like he always did when he was pondering something difficult, "Could having… er… _'slightly more than platonic'_ feelings for someone really affect a life debt? That seems bizarre. I mean…why would it?"

Hermione shrugged helplessly.

"I don't know. Maybe they're not related at all. To be honest the debt started to feel a bit strange even before I became aware that I might be attracted to him – which was Lavender Brown's fault by the way! I just assumed it felt weird because I was acting so far outside a mere obligation."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Hmmm," he hummed thoughtfully, "Maybe it's just a coincidence. I'm guessing you've done plenty of research about life debts?"

Hermione smirked.

"Have you met me?" she teased, and Harry smiled as well.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Yes, I've researched it extensively, but there is actually a huge lack of information on this kind of magic. It's like wand lore – it's considered a very mysterious subject with hardly any books written about it or accounts from people who've experienced it."

Harry made a little noise of excitement.

"Oh! Why don't we organise a meeting with Professor Flitwick? If there's anyone who knows about this kind of magic it'll be him."

Hermione gasped in delight at the idea. She hadn't even considered talking to the old charms master about it. Harry was most certainly right about his expertise. He may know something that couldn't be found in textbooks.

"That's a brilliant idea!" she exclaimed.

"Don't sound so surprised."

Hermione giggled before sobering and watching her friend closely for his response to her next question.

"And you're not angry with me?" she asked cautiously. Harry raised an eyebrow with a curious expression.

"About Malfoy?"

She nodded, biting her lip hesitantly. Harry shrugged sheepishly.

"Do you think he feels the same?"

Hermione thought about it for a long moment. The vivid memory flashed through her mind of her visit that afternoon. She could picture in perfect detail the way his grey eyes had drooped as he stared down at her hands. His rough, dry skin had felt so cold against her own. And then he had lifted her hand and pressed his lips there so tenderly she had felt her whole body wracked with chills. Like he was worshipping her skin with his lips. It had been the single most erotic moment of her life. How could something so simple elicit such an intense, visceral response? At first she had been so sure that he was just thanking her, or begging her for forgiveness. But there had been no mistaking the king of carnal longing in his eyes as he stared at her. His gaze had almost set her on fire. She shivered at the memory, before taking a deep breath and calming her mind. She needed to be rational about this.

"I don't think he possibly could," she said slowly, considering the question seriously, "I think that my being a muggleborn would always be a barrier for him, even though he may have changed a lot. And it's all so complicated. I doubt anything could become of it. It was probably just a moment of weakness. I'm the only person who's seen him or talked to him in months."

Harry looked a bit queasy but he nodded grimly.

"Okay. But if he hurts you I'm going to make him wish he was still locked up in that prison!"

Hermione giggled.

"Really, Harry. It's nothing. Didn't you ever hear of Florence Nightingale? Maybe I'm getting pity confused with real affection."

Harry chortled and nodded.

"Well I guess we just have to hope that he wins his trial next week," Harry said at last in a tired voice, "And in the meantime we'll try talk to Flitwick so that we can prepare ourselves so we know what you're facing and deal with it."

Hermione smiled and squeezed Harry's hand. She cancelled his stasis charm so that the steam rose off the food once more.

"Thank you Harry. You're a good friend. Now I've distracted you long enough. Let's eat."

Harry grinned and quickly grabbed his fork.

"Thank Merlin! I thought I was going to starve!"

"Heaven forbid I kill the Chosen One."

He chuckled again and tucked into his food with gusto. Hermione followed suit after a while. But she had started to wonder a bit about her interactions with Draco and her thoughts were far too distracted from her food. It seemed so far fetched that he would have any kind of feelings for her beyond gratitude, maybe even lust since he'd been shut away for so long. Surely nothing more. She tried to dismiss the strange memory of his kiss from her mind, but it was easier said than done. Her palm still tingled where his lips had touched her. But she was a _muggleborn_. She just couldn't seem to imagine him changing his attitudes so extremely or so soon. There had to be another explanation. She just hoped, as Harry said, that he didn't end up hurting her feelings. Because despite every reason not to, she was really starting to care about him.

….

 **Hmmm more physical contact. For those who have expressed curiosity over the life debt, I know you still have questions, but it's not over yet! More will be revealed. And for those who wish the chemistry was sizzling a bit faster… well, there's only so much they can do in prison! Forgive me.**

 **Anyway, let me know what you think with helpful golden reviews!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

 **A nice long chapter for you this time! Some questions answered and some chemistry deepened! As always, JKR is the enviable owner.**

"Well it certainly sounds like an interesting situation!"

Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement as they watched little Professor Flitwick wave his wand around in a complex rune shape. The window high above his head was slowly sealing shut as he charmed the glass to rearrange itself inside the frame. The restoration of Hogwarts had been underway during the months since the final battle and was almost completed. It would hopefully be ready for a new year of school students soon. When Hermione and Harry had arrived a little while ago, they had met first with Professor McGonagall who had given them a quick update on the repairs she was working on, such as the suits of armour being re-educated about their positions and the recruitment of more paid house elves, organised with Dobby's help of course. She had quizzed them once more about their plans for the next year, but both Harry and Hermione had been adamant. Harry was determined to continue on with the auror program he'd started, in which he was clearly flourishing. After everything that had happened, he seemed unwilling to return to Hogwarts; not without Dumbeldore as headmaster anymore, he'd said. As for Hermione, she had certainly not been idle during their year roaming about the countryside searching for Horcruxes. She knew, without a doubt, that she was ready to take her exams now, after months both on the run and in Australia studying hard. She was confident that she could take them tomorrow and receive flying results. The ministry had granted her special permission along with a small group of other exiled seventh years to sit their NEWTs in one month to compensate for opportunities lost while Voldemort was in power. Not that she had paid much attention to her studying lately; she had far too much on her mind, such as visiting Draco and this confusing life debt that kept her awake at night worrying.

"What do you think, Professor?" Hermione asked politely as the tiny wizard finished up his work and turned to give them his full attention. The short man stroked his beard thoughtfully for a few moments, clearly pondering what he had been told. She wasn't sure her summary had been very eloquent, but it wasn't exactly easy to convey without explaining every single detail of the last seven years just to be thorough. Eventually the Charms Master pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose and clapped his hands together.

"Life debts are notoriously tricky things to understand," he began in a high-pitched, lecturing tone, "There is a lot of mystery surrounding how they are acquired in the first place as well as how to fulfil them. Just as with wands, it seems to be quite different for each individual case depending on the circumstances."

Hermione nodded eagerly. This was all similar to what she had read in the few books that seemed to bother mentioning them. The professor continued with a slight frown of consideration.

"However, there are some rather unique traits about this particular life debt you've described," he squeaked. Hermione felt her pulse race at his words. It was likely that he might know more than all the books she'd read put together. She wished she'd asked Harry sooner, since this had been his idea.

"Such as?" Harry asked curiously.

Flitwick perched himself on the edge of a nearby chair. He looked just like he always did when he used to lecture them on new charms in class.

"Well, let me start by asking you this, Mister Potter," he replied, "How many times have you or Miss Granger saved each other's lives over the last few years?"

The two Gryffindors shared a look and a brief smirk.

"Too many times to count," he responded with a light shrug. Flitwick hummed and held up a single crooked finger.

"And have either of you ever owed the other a life debt?"

Hermione frowned as she considered this. She was starting to see where he might be going with this.

"Never," she answered in a pensive tone.

"Precisely. You see, my dear, there is a high probability that a friend – a _true_ friend – will behave to protect you. If Mister Potter saved your life you would no doubt thank him, certainly, but it would not be totally _unexpected_. He is your friend. It is therefore perfectly reasonable for him to save you."

Both of them exchanged a glance and nodded as this piece of information fell into place. Flitwick watched them to check that they had understood before he continued.

"Now, Mister Potter, you mentioned earlier when you were both describing your experience with life debts that _two_ have been owed to you. Were these people friends of yours?"

Harry shook his head hurriedly. He even looked a little disgusted at the thought.

"Snape and Pettigrew? Not a chance."

Flitwick beamed brightly at his obvious distaste for the idea, clicking his little heels together.

"Exactly, and _that_ is how a life debt forms. When your life is saved by someone who is neither friend nor relative in such a dramatic way, your magic instinctively responds to this act. It seeks to redress the balance. _All_ magic must have balance!"

Hermione hummed thoughtfully, biting into her bottom lip and tapping her foot unconsciously on the stone floor as she pondered this idea.

"So my magic responded to Draco Malfoy because at the time we were _not_ friends," she surmised in a slow voice, "He went above and beyond what was expected of him, since he was essentially my enemy when he saved me in the Room of Requirement. I became bound to him until I could create a balance…"

Harry nodded eagerly, clearly coming to a similar realisation.

"My dad saved Snape when they were at school. But it was Sirius who played the trick, so it wasn't really my dad's responsibility to save Snape's life. They were enemies. He acted in a way that was _more_ than expected to save him. And I had every reason in the world to hate Pettigrew; he was the reason my parents were murdered. But I still showed him mercy."

Flitwick clearly didn't understanding all the particular details to which Harry was referring but he still nodded and tapped his crooked little nose with one gnarly finger.

"Your magic will always seek to balance a life force wherever possible," he agreed with a slight twinkle in his eye, "And life debts are only forged when one person acts in a way that _exceeds_ their duty, so to speak. Otherwise every person who fought in the battle of Hogwarts and defended his or her friends at some point would owe a life debt."

Hermione frowned as she contemplated what this meant. She remembered some of the strange moments recently where the debt had reacted so viscerally to contact with Draco in the prison.

"That certainly explains why I have one. But _why_ has my life debt to Draco been acting so weirdly? Why hasn't it gone away?" she asked with a slight stammer to her voice. Flitwick cocked his scrawny head to one side and smacked his lips as he thought about it.

"Your relationship with Mister Malfoy has changed, yes?"

Hermione shared a brief, embarrassed look with Harry. They both felt their cheeks go a bit pink before they nodded at the same time.

"Yes. We're quite cordial now… maybe uh…even _more_."

Hermione wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She was absolutely mortified saying this to proper little Professor Flitwick, but she knew that she had to tell him all the pertinent information if she wanted his help.

"Hmmm…I've only once or twice heard of a situation like this, and it was told to me either second-hand or it was something I read in a rare charms manuscript. But nevertheless, life debts have been known quite seldom to _transform_. Your level of intimacy with Mister Malfoy has altered, and so too has the debt."

"What does that mean?" she asked nervously, seeing the hesitant expression on the short wizard's face.

"Well in the examples I'm familiar with, the person who owes the life debt has needed to find another angle or perspective on the issue. You may need to find another way of repaying Mister Malfoy that does not involve physically saving his life."

Hermione looked intently at Flitwick, feeling much closer to a solution than she had been before. She grinned excitedly and leaned closer towards him.

"What can I do? Do you know what might work?"

Flitwick smiled indulgently in return, a glimmer of pity in his eyes.

"I take it from your urgency you don't enjoy being indebted to young Mister Malfoy?" he asked wryly and she heard Harry snort next to her. She rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'd prefer it if I wasn't obviously. I… just don't want him to get the wrong idea about why I'm helping him. He might jump to conclusions."

The professor nodded wisely as he pushed his slipping, horn-rimmed glasses back up his nose.

"Well I'm afraid I can't help you there. You need to find out what it is you can do to appease this life debt yourself. There is obviously still something hanging over the both of you that needs to be resolved. That might be a good starting point."

Harry scoffed and gave her a cheeky smile.

"What _isn't_ still hanging over them?" he joked, "They have worse history between them than me and Voldemort!"

Flitwick flinched slightly at the name, but then recovered himself and gave a little sing-song murmur.

"Yes, I do recall a great deal of hostility between my top two students."

Hermione laughed. It was true that she and Draco had been doomed to enmity right from the start. He had been a fiercely competitive boy who was trying to live up to his father's strict, uncompromising expectations. He had expected to be the intellectual frontrunner when he started in first year. But astoundingly he had been overshadowed by a brilliant muggleborn who received all the praise and grades he so desperately wanted. Hermione could only imagine how severe Lucius Malfoy must have been with his only son for this failure. It was hardly surprising that he had returned in second year spewing filth about mudbloods. He had been angry and lashed out in the only way he could at the time; with petty words and insults.

She considered what Flitwick had said. Now that she and Draco had become strange sort of allies, she understood what he was trying to tell her. Saving his life was something expected of her now; she genuinely cared about him and she wanted to protect him. He made her laugh and he tugged at her heartstrings in a way that sometimes took her breath away. Saving his life was the most natural thing in the world to her now. She wouldn't even hesitate. So she needed a different strategy. Something that was meaningful and life changing, but maybe just a little bit unconventional. And anyway, since when had things with Draco ever _not_ been unorthodox? She was certain that he would appreciate the irony if he knew about this. Which made her realise something she wanted to ask Flitwick.

"Professor, do you know if the debt is affected by the other party being aware of it? If Draco found out about it, would anything change?"

Flitwick shook his head.

"No. The magic would be unaltered by his awareness. As we could see in the case of Mister Potter."

She nodded and watched as Flitwick gave a few brusque twitches of his wand to the ceiling above them. The dusty, crooked chandelier that had clearly been damaged by a blast in the battle creaked and started to straighten itself. She gave a long sigh and started to wonder whether she might be able to squeeze in one more visit to the prison before his trial began. She had been telling the truth when she said she would prefer if Draco didn't know about the life debt. He was a sceptical person by nature, particularly now after the war and his imprisonment. Hermione knew without a doubt that if he found out about it he would instantly assume that she was only helping him to absolve the debt. He would be hurt and resentful if he thought that she had been forced into it, even if this wasn't true. He would never trust her again. And she was just starting to really _like_ him.

Hermione pursed her lips as she watched Flitwick showing the charm to Harry who seemed suddenly interested in the Chandelier above them. She thought maybe he was just being polite. Harry had always felt guilty about the destruction of Hogwarts since he burdened himself with a lot of guilt over the final battle.

She frowned and leaned against a nearby desk. It groaned a bit under her weight but she cast a quick spell to strengthen the wood that had been turned almost charcoal in the blast. She _did_ want to see Draco again soon, she realised. Now that she was more cognisant about exactly what was 'wrong' with her life debt, she was eager to find a way around it. Because if there was even the slightest chance that Draco felt the same attraction that she did, it was vital that nothing ruined it.

…. …. ….

It was official. Draco was definitely in love with her.

He had worried that he wouldn't see her again until the first day of the trial, surrounded by other people, but here she was sitting before him once more. She had come in all her Gryffindor glory, bestowing on him the smile that lit up the entire room. She was even wearing a crimson coat – typical house allegiance, he thought. But he did not mind at all when he noticed the way the red glowed brightly in contrast to the dark, bottomless brown of her eyes.

 _Okay, you need to calm down,_ he warned himself, trying to dampen the thrill that was coursing through his body, _You're getting overwhelmed…_

But he couldn't stop the devilish smirk from tugging at his lips as she settled into her chair and regarded him thoughtfully.

"So…couldn't keep away from me?" he asked slyly, wondering what it would be like to flirt with Hermione Granger. He had seen so many different sides of her these last couple of months during her visits, but he didn't think he'd seen her play coy. She was far too open and guileless for that. He watched closely as Hermione smiled and shook her head indulgently.

"I just wanted to check up on you. You must be anxious about the trial on Monday, yes?"

Draco contemplated her with a gleam of curiosity. She had easily dismissed his flirtation and quickly asked a question that was both insightful and heartfelt. It was pure Hermione.

"It's alright to admit you were worried about me," he teased. She chuckled and leaned forwards onto her elbows, resting her chin on her knuckles.

"I never denied it," she replied simply, "Of course I'm worried. And _you_ must be terrified!"

Draco reluctantly nodded and folded his arms in front of his chest.

"Well it doesn't help that I've got plenty of time on my hands to dwell on it," he admitted slowly. She smiled gently at him and started to bite into her bottom lip. He watched intently as the flesh of her lip reddened.

"Is there anything else I can do to help?" she finally asked with a slight quiver in her voice. He laughed at her words.

"Surely you've done enough! What else could you possibly do to help that you haven't already done? Typical overachiever."

Hermione snorted, relaxing a bit and blushing prettily.

"I think the lawyers are quite confident with their case. So we just have to hope that nothing too unexpected comes up from the ministry prosecutor…"

Draco held up a hand to stop her.

"Please can we _not_ talk about it?" he asked with a groan, "I've had enough legal jargon lately."

Hermione bit her lip again, suppressing an amused smile.

"Fair point," she conceded, "What would you like to talk about then?"

He considered the question carefully as he watched her closely. His eyes flickered down her soft, bouncy curls, slender neck and arms right down to the tips of her fingers. She still wasn't wearing a ring. He dismissed this thought. If he started asking questions about it, he was sure she would realise that he was being eaten alive by jealousy. He wasn't sure he could keep his burning resentment hidden if they openly discussed it. When he thought of her and Weasley together he felt physically sick. It made him want to slam his fist into the disapproving stone fortress keeping him imprisoned. So although he desperately wanted to ask about her relationship with Weasley and where they stood, he put it to one side and promised to find out later when the timing was better.

"So how is your study going?"

He remembered that she had told him she was preparing to sit her NEWTs a week or so ago. She huffed out a heavy breath at the question and looked instantly frazzled.

"Study? What Study? I haven't even opened a school text in days! It's been madness."

He chuckled as she threw her hands in the air, clearly flustered, and he loved the way her curls seemed to spark with static and turn a little wild to match her mood.

"Merlin forbid Hermione Granger be deprived of her precious school books! What is the world coming to?" he joked, earning himself a glare from her.

"The NEWTs are coming up really soon," she moaned, digging her nails into her cheeks, "what if I fail them? I'll be a laughing stock!"

Draco scoffed.

"As if you would fail them. You could have sat them in fourth year and earned Acceptable in every subject."

She pouted slightly, frowning at him with a distasteful curl of her lip as if he were a mad person.

"I don't want to get Acceptable."

Draco groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Fine! I'm sure you will achieve all _Outstandings_ , Hermione," he insisted firmly, "You have been preparing for this longer than you'd probably admit."

He stared at her challengingly and held it until she reluctantly nodded.

"You're right of course," she conceded with a sigh before smiling shakily, "Just don't start calling me a bookworm again."

Instead of laughing Draco actually frowned as a thought struck him.

"I've called you far worse and you've forgiven me," he reminded her seriously. She smiled tenderly, her lips stretching until two adorable little dimples appeared in her cheeks.

"Well I guess neither of us could have expected the bookworm and the ferret to ever become friends!" she said with a short laugh.

Draco sniggered too. But then he sobered quickly as he considered her choice of words. In an instant he became insatiably curious, almost urgent and he gave her a dark, burning look of interest.

"Is that what we are?" he pressed with a deceptively lazy smile, "friends?"

Hermione bit her lip again and shrugged awkwardly. He saw her contemplating the question and his heart raced. He swallowed. Of course they had overcome their past and forgiven old wrongs. And he had acknowledged with a degree of fatalistic certainty that his feelings for her were growing increasingly intense with every visit. But did _she_ consider their past wounds healed enough to forge a friendship from the ashes of their old enmity? He suddenly wasn't sure. She was watching him carefully, pondering the question for longer than he was comfortable with. Did she not want to be friends? That was the only real chance he thought he had to get close to her. What if he were released from prison and then she never wanted to see him again? Draco waited for her to reply, his gut turning in somersaults. Eventually Hermione cocked her head to one side, her curls spilling over her shoulders as she shifted.

"I think I would very much like to be your friend," she murmured sweetly, her lips tugging into a quirky smile. Draco felt his stomach flip over several times and he couldn't stop himself from tensing up in excitement.

"Then it's settled," he murmured in a soft but firm voice. They were silent for a few seconds, staring at each other, before Hermione's smirk stretched into a full, dazzling grin. Bloody hell she was beautiful, he thought. He clicked his tongue nervously and leaned forwards over the table to match her pose.

"Hermione, if I lose this case…"

He saw her eyes widen in horror. She immediately interrupted him, as he had known she would.

"Don't say that! You _will-_ "

He gave a little, self-deprecating smile and held up a hand.

"No, let me say it. If I'm found guilty, you will keep coming to visit me, won't you?"

She blinked for a split second, but this time there was no hesitation in her response.

"Of course I will."

He nodded silently, a little glimmer of relief creeping its way through his fears. Obviously this kind of scenario was not ideal. The very thought of Hermione moving on with her life, getting married, having children and taking the wizarding world by storm while he rotted inside his cell watching her from a distance was repulsive. But even though it would probably destroy him, he would still need her in his pitiful life. He just hoped that it didn't come to this.

"Promise?" he pushed a little desperately, needing that reassurance before she left today and the trial began. She smiled in genuine understanding.

"You can count on it, Draco."

Draco shivered with a strangely hopeful nervousness. At least if he lost the case he wouldn't lose her completely. That was all he needed. Their gazes were locked for an almost endless moment. He knew that his usual Slytherin subtlety was failing him right now, and that all his pent up yearning and desire were probably clearly written across his face. She certainly seemed to blush a little in response; her cheeks became a bit flushed and she was biting into her lip again. Hermione was the first one to break the eye contact; there was no way _he_ could have, he had been absolutely enthralled by the heated moment shared between them. She spoke down to the table in a croaky voice.

"And you haven't received any unwelcome attention since the last time I visited? You said everything was fine, but it's been a few days now…"

Draco clenched his fists a bit instinctively, but nodded to reassure her.

"No, everything has been quiet again. They're ignoring me even more than they did in the beginning."

Hermione hummed to herself and tilted her head.

"Surely that's better than being beaten?"

"Definitely," he agreed with a slightly dark, husky laugh, "Especially now that I have books and things to occupy myself. Two months ago I probably would have welcomed a good beating just for some human contact."

Hermione's brows furrowed up sadly at first, but she managed to give him a small smile eventually at his rather sardonic humour.

"Can I get you any more books or something to help pass the time?" she asked. Draco shook his head in the negative. Hermione narrowed her eyes as she considered something and then added,

"How about something to eat? Are you craving anything that is easy to smuggle in?"

Draco smirked when he thought of what exactly he was craving right now. But he couldn't really tell her that all he wanted to taste was her lips, neck, shoulders, breasts… anywhere his mouth could reach on her skin, actually. He flushed at the surprisingly crude train of thought. It was a damn good thing he had been trained in occlumency so he didn't scream his thoughts to her in some kind of mental barrage about how much he wanted to grab her right now and make her forget that incompetent moron Weasley even existed. Right here on this stupid table that always sat between them. If he had his wand, that table would have been blasted to a pile of dust by now so that nothing separated them, he thought wryly.

"Well I wouldn't say no to a big creamy plate of mashed potato and gravy," he admitted instead in a slightly lascivious tone. Hermione laughed.

"I'll look into it," she promised.

"Why the sudden desire to satisfy my petty whims? You usually just bring things without asking," he wondered curiously. Hermione blushed deeply, unable to meet his eye. He had obviously hit a sore spot.

"I just want to make sure you're taken care of. This trial isn't going to be easy for you."

"I'll survive-" he began, but Hermione shook her head, her brown eyes wide and fearful.

"I'm serious, Draco. They're going to try and vilify you in every horrible way they can think of."

Draco sighed, acknowledging the truth of her words to himself and he let out a long, slow breath.

"I'm going to be painted as some kind of sadistic murderer, aren't I?" he muttered grimly. Hermione instantly took hold of his hand in response to the pain in his voice. This was becoming a bit of a habit of theirs. His skin prickled pleasantly where she touched him. He watched as her eyes flickered down to their joined hands and he knew instantly that she was thinking of the last time she had visited. When he had pressed his lips to her skin. It had been driving him mad ever since. She had been so soft and sweet.

"We're going to be ready for them! We've put together a strong defence," she vowed in a low, confident voice, giving his hand a squeeze.

Draco smirked and shifted his grip so that they were actually holding hands, with their fingers linked together. Usually their contact had always involved one of them just touching the other. But this felt more intimate. They were entwined in a way that was so close that he could feel her warmth seeping into him. He ran a thumb over the back of her hand in a slow circle.

"Thank you for everything," he told her in a slightly croaky voice, "Even if we're not successful or things go downhill during the trial, I want you to know that I appreciate everything you've done for me."

He saw Hermione visibly swallow and her eyes suddenly got sort of glassy and round as she stared at him with an expression that looked a bit like anguish. He felt uncomfortable for getting them both so emotional suddenly. It was all rather embarrassing for the normally cool prince of Slytherin. He sighed as she blinked and gave him a watery smile.

"Alright, let's not get too mushy," he said with a scowl, grimacing and shrugging off her sympathy as casually as he could manage even though he maintained his fierce grip on her hand.

"I thought Gryffindors were _always_ mushy," she joked with a slight sniffle and a stretching smile.

"That's true. I hope you don't start blubbering in the middle of the trial this week."

Hermione snorted and grasped his hand tighter.

"I'll try my best. But your mother might find it more difficult. She's dying to see you."

Draco's frown broke just slightly as his lips twitched. He missed his mother dearly and felt terrible that she'd been alone all these months so soon after everything that happened with Lucius and the death eaters at the manor. He personally wasn't exactly weeping over his father's death – there had been too much bitterness between them in the end – but he knew his mother still had fond memories of her husband from when he was young and full of power and vitality. Not a warped, malcontent puppet for some mad despot who had taken over his home and conscripted his only son against his will. Draco wasn't sure he could ever forgive his father for what had happened. But his mother was not as hard hearted as he had become in recent years.

"How is she?" he asked Hermione and noticed how she perked up at the question. His skin felt clammy and tense where they were still holding hands. He was trying too desperately to soak up every second of the sweet gesture before she realised how inappropriately long it had been and might pull away.

"She's doing marvellously well, actually!" Hermione cooed in an awed voice, a bright grin lighting up her face, "Your mother is one of the most terrifying and formidable women I've ever met. But I like her very much."

Draco snorted and shook his head in disbelief.

"Who could have predicted you would become such firm allies? It defies belief!"

Hermione giggled prettily.

"Well it was rather easy, actually. Your mother and I have one very important thing in common."

Draco raised his eyebrow quizzically.

"Oh? And what might that be?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip and took in a deep breath.

"You, obviously."

Draco must have visibly gulped and gotten paler at her words because she chuckled and pulled her hand away gently as she went to stand up. She didn't withdraw out of worry or disgust or anything. In fact, her hand slid back through his in a way that made their skin glide together so softly he felt the tiniest pinpricks of pleasure ripple up his arm. But before he could protest the loss of contact, she was on her feet and hoisting her bag up onto her shoulder.

"It's time for me to go. I've yet to speak to the warden today. And he seems to be taking his frustrations out on me ever since I raised hell at the ministry about your beating. Since he's not allowed to harass you any more, he's been finding the most ridiculous hoops for me to jump through to make me as frustrated as possible every time I come within a hundred kilometres of the prison."

Draco sneered at her story, feeling a malicious but at the same time powerless rage against the slimy man.

"Don't let him push you around, Hermione, don't let him bully you!" he warned with a fierce growl, but she just smiled cheerfully at him.

"Oh don't worry. It takes a lot more than _that_ to intimidate me!"

Draco blinked and stared at her for a moment before grunting and letting a reluctant grin spread across his face.

"He really has no idea what he's up against, little lioness."

Hermione blushed and smiled, looking oddly flattered at the endearment.

"I'm not _that_ bad…"

Draco scoffed and gestured pointedly towards his face.

"I remember that slap like it was yesterday. I can still feel a tingling in my cheek when you get cross!"

Hermione looked a bit sheepish and scuffed one foot against the floor.

"Well I'll try my best not to strike anyone this time. But for the record, you absolutely deserved that slap. I don't regret it one bit."

Draco smirked and flopped back in his seat.

"You're right. I needed a good slapping. Still do, sometimes. Now go before you start getting mad again. Merlin help us…"

"Draco!" She laughed and shook her head in fond amusement. As she left the room she turned and shot one last grin in his direction and he returned it with a slow, almost predatory smile of lazy desire. He loved the way she flushed when he did; it spread from her cheeks all the way down her neck and into her coat. She raced out quickly after that, trying to hide her blush.

 _I need to win this trial,_ he thought desperately, feeling that familiar, unmitigated terror settle over him after she had gone and the room was empty once more, _I need to win it so that I can try and win_ _ **her**_ _…_

 _…. …. …._

Hermione waited with steadily escalating nervous energy in an antechamber off to one side of the courtroom. She couldn't stop herself from pacing back and forth in agitation. There were three other people in the room as well, each watching her with indulgent smiles on their faces. She tried to ignore them as best she could, knowing she looked like a madwoman but not really caring. She had been fretful and nauseous all night and had barely slept. And now she was on edge and exhausted from waiting for what felt like far too long. Draco's clean clothes had been sent along to the prison and they had said he would be arriving shortly. Narcissa, one of the other occupants of the room, was watching the door intently, waiting for it to open and reveal her son. The other two people sitting along one bench with a much more relaxed posture were Harry and Mr Kennard the defence lawyer. Harry caught her eye as she paced past his seat and he gave her a cheeky wink and an encouraging smile. She rolled her eyes and continued, ignoring his positive attitude because it only made her feel more anxious.

The door opened suddenly to their left and all four heads spun around to watch as Draco sauntered into the room, his hands bound together by a spell. He was accompanied by two burly guards, who were wearing big black cloaks, but Hermione barely noticed them.

" _Draco_!"

Narcissa had shot to her feet and approached her son in a couple of quick steps. The guards released the spell on his hands and backed out of the room without a word, shutting the door behind them. The Malfoy woman looked him up and down quickly to make sure he was still in one piece. Luckily the majority of the bruises and cuts on his face had faded completely thanks to Hermione's healing paste, leaving only dull yellow tinges. Hermione herself blinked in surprise at how he looked. He was wearing the dark blue suit that Narcissa had picked out. Although there were obvious traces of dirt and grime on his skin, and his hair wasn't quite as shiny as it used to be, he looked rather dashing. Unfortunately he was much thinner than before and the material hung a bit clumsily from his shoulders, but it was still kind of sexy compared to his filthy prison robes. She swallowed and dismissed the thought, concentrating instead on this long-awaited reunion with his mother.

Once Narcissa had finished her brief, silent inspection of him, she couldn't contain herself any longer. With a muffled sob she threw her arms around her son and held him tightly. Draco visibly trembled for a few moments, clearly shaken by the sudden transition from the prison to the ministry, but eventually he wrapped his arms around his mother and returned her embrace, closing his eyes and taking a series of measured, calming breaths. Hermione blinked hurriedly and bit down hard into her bottom lip as she watched the touching moment. Narcissa drew back after a while and cupped his cheeks, observing him protectively.

"I'll have to warn the house elves to start preparing to fatten you up with lots of food when you get released and come home."

Draco laughed hoarsely and kissed her cheek with obvious affection.

"How have you been, mother? I'm sorry I haven't been able to-"

"Don't!" she interrupted firmly, fussing with his hair and giving him a watery smile, "I'm fine. And besides, Hermione's done a very good job of taking care of me." She shot a fond, but rather sly look over his shoulder at the curly haired Gryffindor. Hermione felt her pulse quicken as he turned towards her and smiled a little sheepishly. He seemed a bit shy now standing in front of her with other people around them instead of being alone as usual. For a horrible moment, her heart almost stopped as she wondered whether here, outside the prison, she would go back to being the annoying muggleborn in his eyes. Would he look down on her again and push her away now that he wasn't dependant on her? She swallowed and watched warily as he stepped over towards her, and she saw Narcissa smile at her reassuringly from behind him. But she couldn't seem to settle the sick feeling in her gut as if her insides were spinning around like a carnival ride.

"Hello," he finally said in a soft, tender voice that was pitched for her ears only.

"Hello," she replied in a similar tone that matched his. When she didn't say anything further, she saw him shift awkwardly on his feet, grappling for the right words it seemed. Draco managed another private little smile and leaned closer to speak again.

"It's nice to see you in some decent lighting for once," he joked gently, and she followed the way his eyes drifted down to take in her appearance. Hermione wasn't sure she could restrain her emotions anymore. She had been absolutely frantic with worry for days and now here he was, looking so cool and collected she could feel her own terror bubbling over in response. Without warning, she jolted forwards and threw her arms around him.

"Oof-" Draco grunted in surprise as his arms were filled unexpectedly by a tearful Hermione. She wrapped herself around him and gave him an enormous, crushing hug. It hadn't been planned, and she was a little shocked at her own daring, but she just felt this mad urge to embrace him and hadn't really thought it through properly. But nevertheless it took only a split second for Draco to react. Even though a part of her had expected him to pull away or gently disentangle himself, he actually encircled her in his arms and hugged her back. She felt him pull her body closer until the hug was possibly more intimate than she had anticipated when she started it. He did feel thin and bony against her softer curves, she realised. He buried his head in the curls against her neck and she could feel his hot breaths panting against the skin of her throat. A shiver ran down her spine.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so scared," she murmured into his shoulder, her voice muffled and indistinct. She felt rather than heard Draco chuckle. He tilted his head to the side so that he was whispering directly into her ear when he replied.

"I thought you promised not to get too mushy, little lioness."

Hermione snorted softly, gripping him tighter to her before she released him in a hurry and stepped back. The hug had probably gone on a few seconds too long to be respectable. But no one else in the room seemed to mind. Narcissa was beaming, even though it was still a bit watery. Mr Kennard was inspecting his fingernails closely and Harry was looking embarrassed but content enough.

"Harry?" she gestured to him encouragingly and he strode quickly over to stand face to face with his former nemesis.

"Malfoy," he said curtly.

"Potter," Draco replied in an equally short tone.

They were silent and tense for a few long moments before Hermione audibly huffed next to them. They both blinked and glanced at her self-consciously. Harry was the first to act. He stuck out his hand a little brusquely and held his chin up high.

"Good luck today," he said firmly, the usual smile gone from his face but there was no hostility or anger in his expression either. Draco hesitated for a while, staring suspiciously at the hand, but finally he grasped it in his own and they shook very briefly.

"I appreciate the help, Potter," he muttered reluctantly, and Hermione could tell he was wishing he could be anywhere else other than here making nice with Harry Potter. She chuckled and wiped her eyes.

"Ugh, _boys_ …" she said with a light groan and a smile on her face. Mr Kennard cleared his throat and looked down at a pocket watch he had produced from a fold in his formal court robes.

"They'll be ready for us very soon," he said loudly to the room, "Draco, has Miss Granger prepared you for what's going to happen in our first session today?"

Draco nodded.

"Yes, sir."

He sidled closer to her almost imperceptibly until she could feel the warmth of his body against her arm. She felt a jolt of electricity race up her arm and looked down to see that he had gently taken hold of her hand in his. Their bodies were angled so that the other three people in the room could not see it. Hermione's mouth went dry at the contact. It was one thing to touch each other intimately like this alone and in the privacy of their prison room, but to do it in front of others, even if it was concealed, was making her pulse race harder than ever. She could feel that his palm was quite sweaty and she noticed the way his body trembled against her skin. He might seem composed to everyone else there but clearly he was frightened too. She squeezed his hand comfortingly and he rubbed his thumb against her skin in an achingly slow, deliberate circle. She felt a responding, visceral clench of heat in her naval.

Mr Kennard nodded at Draco's answer, gathering his papers together and folding them under his arm with a calm, professional demeanour.

"Right! Well let's get ready then, shall we?"

As they heard the knock on the door signalling that it was time for them to enter, all four occupants of the room moved that way with a collective breath of anticipation and worry. And the whole time they walked through the door after the same two guards, down a long stone hallway with twists and turns and then on into the cavernous courtroom, Draco did not once release his tight, white-knuckled grip on her hand.

….

 **Sorry for the dreadful cliff hanger! But we get right into the action next chapter. I would love all your reviews please for future inspiration! Thanks!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **I wont delay you any further.** ** _Let the dramatics begin_** **! As always, JKR is the mighty mind behind these proceedings.**

 **….**

The court fell into an awed hush for a few uncomfortable seconds as Draco and his supporters entered the large chamber. It was quite dark inside, lit only by a scattering of candles. The benches of the courtroom rose up steeply from the centre, with a little box to one side where they had been directed to sit for the duration of the trial. The walls were thick and stony grey, no windows or hangings to brighten up the dreary atmosphere. But at least there were no dementors anymore, Hermione thought with relief as a shiver passed through her. It was cold enough already in here without the horrible icy stabbing that felt like your soul was clamouring to desperately escape from your body.

Hundreds of eyes stared down at them, all frozen in shock at the procession that had entered with Draco. Hermione felt all the hairs on her neck prickle and stand on end in discomfort at the intense scrutiny. It struck her suddenly as she looked around, that the phrase 'Innocent until proven guilty' didn't actually exist in the magical world. Almost every member of the wizengamot were glaring at Draco like he was dirt under their shoe. A couple of them even seemed to hiss and sneer at the former death eater scum who had dared to enter their precious courtroom. Hermione felt sick. Her stomach was rolling in waves and she had to swallow the bile that rose so easily into her throat. Beside her, she felt Draco's crushing grip on her hand tremble and she almost winced at the tingling of pain spreading from her knuckles. She wouldn't be surprised if she found bruises tomorrow. And yet she just kept gripping him back.

The hush came to an abrupt end. As if by some silent cue, all the voices seemed to rise at once until it seemed as though every ministry official there was yammering away to the person next to them, pointing animatedly down at the defence team, expressing surprise and what was most probably derision.

Then she managed to catch Kingsley Shacklebolt's eye. He smiled warmly at her as he stepped forwards to take his place in the Minster's chair. He gestured for the court recorder and his assistant to sit beside him and then gave her one last reassuring nod as he sat down. Hermione took a deep, calming breath, feeling more confident knowing that he would be attending the trial. At least she could count on Kinglsey to offer a fair judgment. Maybe he could influence some of the others. Clenching her jaw in determination, she nudged the group towards the defence section, where Mr Kennard had already started setting up his notes and preparing himself for the first session. There was a small, slightly cramped box in front, jutting out into the stage area where Draco would be sitting by himself, and Hermione, Narcissa and Harry would sit behind him in significantly more comfortable seats. She noticed a few astonished faces staring at Harry in complete shock as they walked across the court. She smiled secretly to herself, thinking that it would be a damn good thing for Draco to be seen in the company of their saviour Harry Potter on the first day. Which was no doubt why Harry had suggested he come along. She was already hearing whispers of adoration from some of the female officials of the court. A couple were primping up their hair and straightening their robes as they tried to catch Harry's eye. Hermione repressed a snort. He was a bit young for them.

When they reached their seats, it was time to part from Draco, whose hand she was still clutching discreetly. She was sure no one had even noticed them holding hands as they entered. A lot of attention was directed at Harry and, regardless, they were doing a good job of hiding them behind the flare of her coat. But when they passed Draco's box, she started to pull away surreptitiously. Draco jerked in surprise and gripped her hand tighter. He turned to give her a wide-eyed stare. He looked terrified. She could see just how fearful he was from the round, slightly glassy look in his eyes and the twitching muscles in his jaw. He had no doubt seen the contempt in the faces of so many members of the court who were supposed to be unbiased and impartial but clearly hated his guts. Hermione rubbed her thumb over the skin of his hand.

"Draco, it's fine. You're going to be fine," she murmured softly, with an encouraging smile on her face that she didn't necessarily feel herself. But it was important that he remain confident and in control. She gave him one last squeeze, and this time when she pulled away he released her. He gave her a desolate, yearning look before moving into his box and sitting with a stiff, self-conscious posture. She wished she could sit by his side but that would be inappropriate.

Once everyone had taken their places, a throat was cleared off to one side and then Kingsley waved his hand towards the press gallery, releasing the charm that was holding them back. A thunderous, violent flashing of cameras bombarded them with light and Hermione had to almost shield her eyes against the fireworks of photographs. Journalists were yelling and calling out to Draco and her and Harry in particular, asking for reactions or comments, but they just sat silently and waited for it to be over.

It seemed like forever before Kingsley waved his hand again and the press desisted. A middle-aged woman wearing the most hideous yellow jumper Hermione had ever seen stood to her feet, a blue cloak around her shoulders to signify her position as a court mediator. She snapped her fingers and the recorder sitting beside Kingsley jumped into action with a flurry of quills and parchment, ink splattering around her.

"We have gathered today to begin the trial of Mister Draco Lucius Malfoy. Nineteen years of age. Non-graduate attendee of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Slytherin House. Last recorded wand: 10 inches, hawthorn, unicorn hair. The charges that have been laid against him on behalf of the Ministry of Magic are murder, torture by use of dark magic, aggravated sexual assault and conspiracy to overthrow the government."

There were a few audible gasps in the courtroom. Hermione only just managed not to wince when she heard the charges read out loud, although she had known about them beforehand. They were all untrue, of course. Every single claim that had been made were all purely based on events that occurred at Malfoy Manor where he was living during the war. Draco's own personal guilt was non-existent. Hermione knew that their defence team would be able to poke holes in these allegations in good time, even if it seemed horrifying right now. The lady in yellow waited for the whispering to subside once more before she continued.

"I feel I should also acknowledge the presence of Mister Harry Potter in the courtroom," all heads turned to stare at the scruffy haired Gryffindor boy who was looking suddenly mortified, like he wanted to sink into his seat and disappear, "Mister Potter, we are truly humbled and honoured by your presence here today. In what capacity will you be acting during these proceedings?"

Hermione frowned at the question. She knew the ministry was obsessed with Harry right now, but this was going a bit far. She could only imagine the matching scowl on Draco's face right now. He'd hate this. Maybe they just wanted to neutralise Harry, and see if they could get him on side. He was an unknown entity right now, and they had always liked trying to exert their control over him. Harry stumbled to his feet a little clumsily and cleared his throat.

"I am here as an advocate for Malf…er…Draco," he said in a loud but slightly shaky voice, "I think these charges are completely false and he's been treated really unjustly. I'm gonna vouch for his character and act as a witness."

A steady murmuring broke out among the wizengamot. It got rather loud as Harry sat back down with a self-satisfied smile on his face. Hermione gently bumped his shoulder and smiled too. He certainly did make thrilling waves at the ministry whenever he stood up to them. There were a few fierce, belligerent looks directed towards him, like he had betrayed the ministry somehow. But there were also some faces that appeared mildly curious, even thoughtful. They were no doubt starting to wonder about the veracity of the charges if the great and heroic Harry Potter believed in the Malfoy boy's innocence. Hermione felt yet another swell of gratitude and affection for her friend in that moment.

The lady in the woolly yellow jumper raised her hand for quiet once more before turning her attention to Draco.

"Mister Malfoy, in light of these charges, how do you plead? Guilty or not guilty?"

Draco stood briefly. He did appear confident to the room as a whole, but from where she was sitting Hermione could see the slight quiver in his fingers that gave away his nerves. She was probably the only one who noticed, except perhaps Narcissa.

"Not guilty," he said in a clear voice.

Nobody looked surprised at his declaration, it was already entered into the records; this was just a formality.

"I call on Ministry official Wallace Jenkins to present the overview of their case against the accused."

A man in black robes stood from the front row of the court and proceeded to step up to a special bench that was slightly raised above the rest of the courtroom. Jenkins had been in charge of the entire case against Malfoy from the beginning, Hermione knew, but this was the first time that she'd seen him in the flesh. Which was strange, because if he'd really done his research properly into torture at Malfoy Manor, then he should have interviewed _her._ Then again, perhaps he already knew of her stance on the case and hadn't bothered. She watched him carefully as he organised his notes in front of him. He reminded her of a vulture. He was so tall that his shoulders were hunched from the way he stood, and his black robes looked glossy as they swirled and fluttered around his legs. His eyes were fierce and beady, and his nose grew into a sharp point like a beak. He took his time and appeared very calm as he began to speak.

"The crimes of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters are of a most heinous nature. They will continue to haunt the wizarding community for many years to come," his voice was low and menacing, Hermione thought with a shudder as she had to strain to hear him properly, "As a member of You-Know-Who's inner circle, Lucius Malfoy was in a position of extreme power and influence. He managed to manipulate and blackmail his way out of any punishment after the first war ended, and now lies dead and unable to answer for his further crimes of rape, murder and treason during the second war. Lucius Malfoy was integral to the plan to overthrow the ministry and was arrested right here in this building for plotting the murder of Harry Potter and his friends several years ago."

At this Jenkins's eyes, and many others in the room, flew to stare at Harry and Hermione once more. She wanted to make a scoffing noise but managed to stop herself. Typical ministry was already showboating. He hadn't even mentioned Draco yet.

"Lucius Malfoy is regarded by many now, in particular members of our own impartial and sadly deceived wizengamot, who believed his claims to be true, as a sadistic and predatory killer hell bent on destruction and mayhem.

It is clear from our extensive investigation of his only heir and inheritor of his vast fortune, that the apple does not fall far from the tree."

Hermione couldn't help herself from grinding her teeth together. She was furious. She clenched her hands into tight fists on her lap and shook her head in disgust. She noticed sadly the way that Draco's shoulders visibly tensed up at this opening statement about him. She knew from a number of painful conversations with him in prison, and of course with Narcissa, that Draco hated any resemblance he bore to his father. His mother had once admitted to her that she knew her son was repulsed by the physical appearance he shared in common with Lucius, as he was desperate to distance himself from his father's weakness and spite. Hermione took a deep, calming breath as Jenkins continued.

"Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's pride and joy, his only child, became an active member of the Death Eaters from a young age. He was eager to step into his father's shoes and willingly committed atrocious acts against muggles and muggleborns. He participated in something called _revels_ , which involved torturing muggle women in particular. They would play with these victims both physically and magically by means of the cruciatus curse, before killing them. Based on the testimonies of survivors, these events took place right in the heart of Malfoy Manor where Draco lived."

There was a vicious murmuring that spread across the courtroom. She could tell the photographers were itching to take shots of Draco sitting there with his face so pale he was looking positively green. Jenkins barely paused in his speech.

"Furthermore, Draco aggressively planned and carried out the invasion of Hogwarts on 30th June, 1997 with the explicit purpose of murdering Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, a plot which was ultimately successful. He endangered the lives of students and members of the Order of the Phoenix in the most despicable way. He subjected them to the threat of a werewolf; Fenrir Greyback, the notorious child killer, as well as his own Aunt Bellatrix Lestrange; one of the most prolific and violent criminals of our age. Draco was clearly Bellatrix's protégée during the war. She took him under her wing and taught him dark magic which he later used to torture muggleborns such as the Chosen One's own best friend and member of the eponymous Golden Trio Hermione Granger."

There were a few puzzled murmurs as many members of the wizengamot looked her way. Hermione stiffened in her seat, confused. She thought it odd that Jenkins would mention her as a famous victim, when she was clearly sitting here in Draco's defence. She saw some people pointing at her and shaking their heads sadly. From the angle of where she was sitting she could also see Draco digging his fingers into his knees so hard he was likely to rip through the material of his suit. Then she hummed thoughtfully as an idea came to her. Maybe Jenkins would try to discredit her testimony about Draco by painting her as some kind of deranged victim who had lost her mind at the hands of the cruciatus. She may become an unreliable witness altogether if they thought her memories were distorted. Jenkins took a deep breath and held up his hands, as silence descended once more.

"It is painfully clear that this Death Eater, who still bears the dark mark of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on his arm today as he sits before us protesting his innocence, is not to be trusted. We have made the grave error of excusing the crimes of Lucius Malfoy in the past. Let us not allow history to repeat itself. This murderer _must_ be punished. There can be no leniency or mercy given, or else we face the threat of allowing another war to destroy us in the future."

Jenkins returned to his seat with a slight curl of his lip indicating his smug satisfaction at the response to his opening address. All around there were mutterings of agreement and significant, fearful looks exchanged. Hermione wanted to scream and throw something at them. Could they not see that this was exactly what a "witch-hunt" looked like? For wizards and witches who had all studied the Salem trials at school in History of Magic, they seemed worryingly ignorant of the implications of blaming a single person for the crimes committed by others. Especially when that person had only been tied to those crimes by the actions of his blood relatives, with no evidence even mentioned about his own personal guilt. She wondered if this would continue throughout the trial. Would he be met with mere insinuations about his connections to certain crimes and no hard proof?

Hermione bit down ferociously into her bottom lip, feeling an anxious flutter in her chest. She shared a glance with Harry and saw him frowning in disapproval as well. Although he often missed the subtleties of ministry politics without her explanations, such as with Umbridge's speech in fifth year, he clearly realised the unfairness of the claims made against Draco so far as well.

She turned back to the front and saw Draco turn around slightly. He met his mother's eyes and gave her a look of reassurance, although it seemed rather hollow when he was clearly upset himself. Narcissa made a very slight, almost inaudible sniffling sound but managed to stay collected and serene. To all outward appearances she seemed like the austere and calm aristocrat. Then his gaze shifted over to Hermione's and he let his true feelings slip through. She noticed the way his brows drew together and his eyes appeared haunted and pleading. She tried to smile at him, but it was so tenuous she felt pathetic. Draco paused and kept their eyes locked together for a long moment. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't in front of so many people. Eventually his face twisted involuntarily into an expression of shame and he looked down at his hands, visibly distraught, before turning back to face the courtroom.

Hermione's pulse thundered and her chest ached with worry. If she didn't already know that she was feeling so emotional then she would have thought she was having a damn heart attack. As it was, she had to take a few deep breaths to stop the room from spinning around her.

She really was starting to care about him, she realised. It was becoming a palpable thing that she could actually feel, like the tingles in her skin where they had held hands, or the sweet metallic taste on her tongue of blood from biting so hard into her bottom lip she pierced the flesh. Narcissa reached the short distance between them and patted her hand in reassurance. She blinked and set her jaw firmly, vowing to do everything in her power to make every single person in this room see Draco Malfoy in exactly the same way she saw him. Someone who deserved a second chance at life.

….

…

..

Draco forced himself to breathe deeply for a few moments, in an out with a steady rhythm. That had been tough. Every painful word had stabbed him a little bit deeper. And the mention of Hermione's torture had almost made him break down completely. That was something that had been haunting him lately. It had been different when she was just some distant memory; but now it was like she was all around him, tormenting him with guilt and an increasing feeling of unworthiness.

He tried to tune in and listen carefully when Kennard stood at the podium to deliver his opening address. He was an eloquent and very patient wizard who managed to present Draco as a reasonable young man who had been a victim throughout the war. He tilted his head to the side more curiously as he started to absorb the words spoken on his behalf, realising he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he was missing what was being said about him.

"…Draco was trapped in his own home. What had once been a haven; a place of comfort in his school holidays, had become a living nightmare for him. It was a place where there was no escape from the violence or degradation of his tormentors. Can you even imagine what it was like to be in his shoes during this time? A _sixteen_ year old boy confronted by the terrifying Lord Voldemort…"

A few members of the wizengamot gasped and shuddered at the mention of Voldemort's name. Draco had noticed the ministry prosecutor Jenkins hadn't had the guts to say it, and was savagely pleased that his own lawyer wasn't afraid to ruffle some feathers. It was important that people started saying his name so as to de-mystify the darkness surrounding him.

"…his parents lives threatened if he didn't act. The dark mark forcibly branded onto his skin against his will. And finally the fear of death hiding around every corner if he didn't submit to their plans. And even despite all these things, he _still_ did not murder Albus Dumbledore, as he had been commanded to. He did not participate in any torture. He is a victim of this terrible tragedy, not a perpetrator. And with the eyes of the wizarding world watching his judgement in the coming weeks, he sits here before you today a man humbled by his loss and his suffering. He sits here also with the full support and respect of the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter himself, and the equally admired Hermione Granger – a muggleborn witch with the most exemplary school results Hogwarts has seen in decades! These two brave young people fought against Voldemort and defeated him, saving our world from chaos. And they have chosen to stand up for Mister Malfoy because they believe what I believe… that he is a casualty of this war as much as any other young soul caught up in this grave tragedy. Do not condemn him for the sins of his father. It would be a crime too great to endure. Lucius Malfoy bears no relevance to this case. Let us decide whether Draco has been punished enough already for his bad luck and his heritage. Let us fight to make the wizarding world a better place. A world with no crusades or prejudices towards _anyone_! I look forward to seeing us take this next step forwards together."

Kennard gave a brief, perfunctory nod before returning to his seat. The courtroom was so quiet Draco could hear his pulse thrumming in his ears. He felt strangely emotional after the man's speech, a dry tickle in the back of his throat. The way he had characterised Draco and his actions through the war was so heartfelt and sympathetic. Which was odd, since the man didn't even really know him. Which meant that it was probably the work of his mother and Hermione. The members of the wizengamot seemed a little restless after all this, but went silent the instant Kingsley's assistant rose to her feet once more.

"We will have a short recess now to discuss the opening statements given. During this time we ask that all members of the court familiarise themselves with the witness list and documents filed by both sides to prepare for the next session."

Then there was a roaring of noise that rose like a wave, battering Draco's eardrums. At almost the same instant, Draco's eyes were dazzled by the sudden flashing of cameras as the press were given free reign once more. He squinted and shielded his eyes, trying to turn his body away from the rabid photographers who were hollering his name.

"We can return to our antechamber if you like," Kennard murmured, pitching his voice close to Draco's ear to be heard above the din that was ringing around the stone courtroom. He nodded numbly in agreement. He needed to get out of there. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kennard gesture to the others and they hurriedly formed a line and began walking. Their quick little procession was unswayed by any shouts or taunts and they made it to the cosy room without any major dramas.

As the door shut behind them, Draco was startled by the eerie silence in contrast to the court outside. All that frantic noise was cut off abruptly, since the room was magically sealed to be soundproof. It was unsettling. He took a few moments to compose himself before turning around. He was met with troubling looks of sympathy and wariness from his mother and Hermione. The older woman was the first to speak.

"Draco, darling, are you alright?" she asked in a croaky voice.

He nodded with a slight grimace, taking in a slow, deep breath.

"I'll be fine, mother. I'm clearly going to need a pretty tough skin. It'll only get worse. Merlin knows what their supposed witnesses are going to say about me."

Mr Kennard nodded in agreement.

"They're going to drag your name through the mud, Draco. But you might have noticed that a lot of what they said lacked any real substance. We can argue it quite effectively."

Draco was surprised when Potter nodded eagerly and stepped up to stand in their little circle instead of off to one side.

"Yeh he kept going on about Malfoy's dad. Half the speech was about him. He didn't even get mentioned until halfway through. What are they playing at?"

Kennard pursed his lips and crossed his arms in front of him as he addressed Potter with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Jenkins wants to discredit him by association. People who are that angry can be irrational. And there's a lot of anger towards Lucius Malfoy."

Draco nodded glumly in agreement. His teeth ached from where he had been grinding them together. His face flushed hot at the mention of Lucius and a rolling, sick feeling started to blossom in his gut. To his left he felt his mother place her hand softly on his shoulder in comfort. She rubbed his shoulder in a motherly gesture, but he could feel the tremble in her fingers. Draco quickly reached up and laid his hand over hers, giving it a squeeze in return.

"Stop worrying, mother," he scolded affectionately, turning towards her. He saw her cool façade crack a little as she gave him a watery smile. She lifted the same hand to caress his cheek.

"You're my son, Draco, It's my job to worry."

Feeling a rush of gratitude towards her, he turned his head to the side and kissed her hand softly. She gave him a swift hug before stepping back and wiping her eyes with quick, surreptitious strokes, assuming her proud persona once more.

It was then that Draco finally turned his attention to Hermione. She was standing back to one side and looking miserable. Her brows were furrowed together sharply and her teeth were digging into her bottom lip as she wrung her hands together. Draco remembered how Jenkins had brought up her name during his opening address and his stomach gave another painful lurch. She was probably reliving her torture at the manor. He winced as he realised he had specifically asked her to go and see his mother when she had first started meeting with him. Had visiting Malfoy Manor again been distressing to her? He hadn't even considered what it would cost her to return to the scene of her suffering. He swallowed and met her eye, feeling intensely ashamed. In truth, she _should_ be a witness for the ministry, not for him. She should want to see him rot away in prison for just standing there and letting it happen.

Hermione tilted her head to the side curiously, but he just continued to stare at her with a pang of regret. His mother took mere seconds to pick up on the tension in the room. She cleared her throat politely and requested a private word with Potter in the hallway. Draco almost rolled his eyes at her actions. The other boy blinked in confusion for a few moments before glancing over at Hermione. When his friend kept ignoring him in favour of returning Draco's stare, he shrugged and stepped out into the hallway with Narcissa. Kennard shuffled awkwardly for a brief time before returning to the courtroom to check on progress.

Draco and Hermione were alone now, although it felt very different to all the times they had been alone together in the prison interview room. There was a certain friction in the air between them that was so thick he could practically taste it. Draco took a hesitant step towards her.

"What he said in there… Jenkins, I mean…" he started in a shaky voice, but Hermione met him in the middle, shaking her head furiously from side to side.

"No! Don't Draco. You know I don't believe that any of those charges are true!"

Draco scowled.

"One of them is. I could have stopped you being tortured by Bellatrix that night. I could have just-"

Hermione held up her hand, moving so close that he could feel her breath falling in quick pants on his cheek.

"I _don't_ blame you for what happened."

Draco nodded gloomily; feeling strangely depressed all of a sudden. In that moment, all those horrible things the ministry official had said about him seemed as though they could almost be true. Maybe he really was just like his father. He had spent half his childhood calling her a mudblood and treating her no better than the dirt beneath his feet. Was it so hard to believe that he could be found guilty of the crimes of a death eater?

He had been glaring at the floor for an uncomfortably long time, cursing himself and his fucked up past, when Hermione touched him. Her hand gently grasped onto his chin and she raised his head with a soft tug. He allowed her to draw him into a steady gaze as his eyes flickered up to meet hers. He had never been this close to her. There had always been darkness shrouding them or it had been too brief, too trivial. Now there was nothing stopping him from drinking her in. For weeks now he had dreamed of those beautiful, dark brown eyes, so full of compassion. But standing toe-to-toe in such an intimate way, he could discern a few lighter flecks in her irises that seemed almost gold.

"It's going to be alright, Draco…" she murmured.

This close to her he could have counted her eyelashes, watching as they fluttered against her skin when she blinked. Draco was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her. His lips were so cracked, ragged from months of neglect, and her Cupid's bow looked so moist and inviting. He craved the idea that he could just sway forwards those few scant inches between them and press his mouth against her curvy bottom lip. Draco felt his body rock involuntarily towards her, his heart thumping. The temptation was so intense he had to clench his jaw shut. He was sure he looked half-deranged. There was undoubtedly a mad, uncontrolled gleam on his face as he stared longingly down at her lips. In a fit of nerves, he just managed to stop himself from actually kissing her. Instead, he leant closer and rested his forehead against hers. Hermione tensed up a bit, but didn't pull away. They stood there for an impossibly long time, just pressed together. He breathed deeply, taking in her scent until he felt dizzy. Draco licked his lips and swallowed again.

"Hermione, we need to talk…"

She jerked back slightly when she heard the desperate edge to his tone.

"About what?" she asked hoarsely. He followed her as she leaned backwards, clasping her face tightly in his trembling hands.

"Everything's changed for me…" he began in an urgent whisper. But almost as soon as he had started to say the words that were making his gut burn with a mixture of terror and hope, they were interrupted. The door opened with a hurried bang against the stone. Mister Kennard entered at a gallop, his eyes focused on the parchment clutched in his wiry hands. Draco's throat convulsed with disappointment as Hermione jumped away from him as if she had been burned. His body was tingling all over from where they had been touching, but he was now left feeling empty and aching. He tried to hold her gaze, but she was staring awkwardly at the floor, a furious blush on her cheeks. Draco took a deep, stinging breath before turning his attention diligently to Kennard and what he was saying. Although a small, childish part of him felt a wave of malice towards the man for interrupting them.

"…will start in a few minutes. We need to return now and take our seats."

Draco nodded, a numb sort of buzzing in his ears. When Hermione still wouldn't meet his eye, he went to follow Mister Kennard back into the courtroom. But before he went through the door, he paused. He huffed out a frustrated breath and cursed himself for being a pathetic fool. Turning around slowly, he stepped in very close to Hermione once more. Draco noticed the way her skin prickled at his proximity. He stroked his hand down her cheek, feeling the creamy softness of her skin against his fingertips.

"We _will_ continue this later," he promised in a barely audible voice. Hermione's gaze finally darted up to his and she looked at him with such intensity that he felt a hot spike of yearning shoot straight to his navel.

"Later," she agreed in an equally hushed, croaky tone. They stared at each other for another few, endless seconds before the tension became too much to bear. Draco tore his gaze away, letting his hand drop from her face with disappointment, before he turned to follow his lawyer back into the courtroom. He only hoped that in time this mess would become a little easier to endure.

….

 **What a lot of tricky things happening. Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter, even though there may have been too much angst. Please leave delicious reviews!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **Sorry it took a bit longer this time, work has been crazy busy. Things will reach a climax soon I promise. And for those who had asked, I'm thinking that I'll probably keep the story under 20 chapters as a whole. Don't forget reviews! As always, JKR is the owner.**

...

 **"** **APPLE ROTTEN TO THE CORE"**

 **MALFOY HEIR SLAMMED BY MINISTRY'S BEST**

 _The trial of Draco Malfoy, son of notorious Death Eater and member of You-Know-Who's inner circle Lucius Malfoy began yesterday in front of a full sitting of the official Wizengamot court. The accused sat sullenly throughout the proceedings, barely expressing a hint of remorse for his crimes during the war. Wallace Jenkins, Ministry prosecutor and hardball legal mind started proceedings yesterday with a scathing and thought-provoking speech about the atrocious acts committed by young Mister Malfoy in the service of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

 _The biggest surprise for all those present, however, was not the magnitude of the accused's crimes, but the baffling support given to him by Chosen One and wizarding world saviour Harry Potter. By Potter's side was long-time companion and muggleborn witch Hermione Granger, a victim herself of Mister Malfoy's sadistic tendencies. Jenkins's report indicated that she had been violently tortured by the Malfoy family at their home shortly before the famous escapade at Gringotts Bank. We at the Daily Prophet can only wonder what kind of enchantment has been cast on these two Gryffindors, previously considered noble and honest in the eyes of the public, to make them advocate for the release of the very sort of person they fought so hard to defeat in the war. We strongly advise the Wizengamot to conduct tests into these poor, deceived young heroes to detect any hexes or spells that may be controlling their actions. For more information on the charges laid against Mister Malfoy, see_ **page 4.** _For possible signs of the Imperius charm and our expert's report on Mister Potter's body language during the trial, see_ **page 7.**

Draco threw the paper sulkily down next to his cot. He buried his head in his hands for a few seconds, muffling a groan with his knuckles. The Daily Prophet was nothing more than a dirty old rag, he reminded himself as he took in a few deep breaths. It wasn't even worth the time he just wasted reading it. But there was also a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that warned him this was a sign of worse things to come. Popular opinion in the wizarding world was clearly steeped against him. And that could be very powerful with the Wizengamot. They weren't exactly known for their objectivity.

Draco rose to his feet, kicking the patchwork blanket off his legs impatiently. He started to pace back and forth in his cramped cell with a furious energy. He had never felt more helpless in his entire life, even when he was at the mercy of Lord Voldemort.

The trial had become increasingly grim the previous day during the afternoon session when the ministry had begun to call its witnesses. He could remember vividly the wave of revulsion that had swept over him when Pansy Parkinson had sauntered into the courtroom, looking like a self-satisfied pug guarding a bone. He had visibly shuddered and grit his teeth together to stop himself from groaning out loud in frustration and disbelief. Pansy had been humiliated and bitter about his rejection of her when they were much younger, and had always held spiteful grudges like no one else possibly could. She was a petty, spoilt little brat to be perfectly frank. And she delighted in smearing Draco's name to the court. A malicious grin had stretched her squashed face quite unbecomingly as she gloated her triumph over him.

They had asked her about his state of mind during sixth year. She had gleefully recounted how proud he had been to serve the Dark Lord, and how he had boasted about his superiority. With a few sharp, smug words she had made it appear as if he had been honoured and delighted with his new task. But although it was certainly difficult to listen to, Draco felt quietly confident that the conflicting testimony of Blaise or Theo would soon shed light on his insecurities during that time. He had been physically sick with guilt and anxiety throughout sixth year. And he had been forced to keep up appearances in front of other students whose parents were tied to Death Eaters lest he make Voldemort suspicious. Surely the Wizengamot would see that.

Until the whole farce had taken a darker turn. He had been so shocked by the depth of Pansy's malice that he had almost leapt to his feet in outrage. He was fortunate indeed that Mr Kennard had clasped his shoulder firmly and prevented any sudden movements. The horrible voices were still clearly ringing through his head.

 _"And before this time you were engaged in an ongoing relationship with Mister Malfoy, is that correct?"_

 _"Yes that is correct," Pansy's greedy smirk had widened, anticipating what was to come next._

 _"What was his behaviour like towards you when you were in a relationship?"_

 _Pansy appeared to think very deeply about it, and even raised her hands to her face, showing off her perfectly manicured nails as she acted as if she were feeling faint all of a sudden._

 _"He was…well…oh dear…"_

 _Mr Jenkins had feigned tenderness._

 _"Yes, Miss Parkinson? Please continue. You are safe here."_

 _Pansy took a dramatic breath._

 _"When we were intimate, he would be so forceful. He took such pleasure in controlling me. I used to have to wear long sleeves to hide bruises on my arms where he would grip me tightly and sometimes he even…"_

Draco slammed his hand against the stone and hung his head in disgust. He remembered clearly the way the court had descended into furious muttering at her declarations. Pansy had been overwhelmed with fake emotion, burying her face in her hands and sobbing. Though he noticed when she looked up once again that her face was perfectly dry. The bitch had been faking the entire thing.

How could she make such insidious claims? Has he really hurt her so badly in their youth that she still sought to reap such dreadful revenge on him? Or was it a different story altogether? Was it merely for the publicity? Fortunately the press had been dismissed from the trial by this point, having gathered their photos and basic information needed in the opening session, but Draco had no doubt it would only be a short matter of time before the story of him being an abusive boyfriend was plastered all over the front page.

Of course, Mr Kennard had done an admirable job of poking holes in her insinuations. He had questioned when exactly they had broken up; forcing her to admit that he had dumped her in fifth year. The dangerously clever lawyer had suggested through his artfully worded questions that the timing was suspicious and her motives doubtful. But Draco was still crushed. The damage had been done. The Wizengamot was sure to take in at least some of her lies and allow them to form prejudices.

The very idea of hurting someone he was dating made him feel nauseous. His thoughts, as usual, turned to Hermione. Had she been at all distressed or concerned by Pansy's lies? What did she think of him now? Even though every one of that mad cow's accusations had been ridiculous, it was still possible that Hermione might become more wary of him as a result. She might grow to be afraid of him. Indeed, she had barely looked at him as he was led from the courtroom at the end of the day by the burly prison guard. He had swivelled his head around desperately trying to meet her eye, but she had stared resolutely at her hands, which were folded in her lap. Her face had been flushed and she was clearly upset. He had continued to stare, urging her to look up. He had needed her to just do or say something, anything that showed her continued trust in him. But she had not.

Draco leaned his back against the freezing stone, resting his weary head and cursing himself for a fool. He was pining after a woman he could not have, no matter how intensely he wanted her. With every new step they made together and every experience they shared bringing them closer, there was always something even more powerful driving them apart. He did not even know if she felt the same way he did. She certainly displayed signs of being attracted to him. He had felt thrilled by her embraces, comforted by her soft hand enveloping his, and elated when he had noticed the goosebumps scattered up her arm from his touch.

But that's where his evidence fell to pieces. She was a naturally generous and kind person. She embraced all her friends. He had seen her hugging Potter at several points during the day. It was killing him. He wanted to tell her, in no uncertain terms, that he despised the very thought of her touching any other man but him and to forbid her from ever doing it again. He both adored and hated her compassion. When it was directed towards him it was the best feeling in the world. But when her affection was given to Potter or, even worse Weasley, he was filled with such a possessive sort of jealousy that it made his jaw ache from clenching his teeth together so hard.

As a spoilt child himself, he had never been taught to share. He had always been given anything he wanted. Anything he desired had become his at a mere suggestion. But Hermione was different. She wasn't like some of those pureblood girls who would leap at a chance to win over the heir of the Malfoy fortune. She didn't throw herself at him or try to impress him. Of course she had proven that she genuinely cared for him, but she seemed to care for everyone! And anyway, it was her love and respect that he so fiercely wanted, not just her desire. And he wasn't sure how he was supposed to earn it. He had never had to fight for a girl before in his life. She didn't seem to want money, and obviously wasn't won over by attractiveness alone since she was dating that ugly git Weasley, so what else did he have to offer?

Draco laughed darkly at the self-pitying direction of his thoughts. Based on how the trial had gone in its first day, it wasn't like he had much hope of escaping his imprisonment and trying to win her over anyway. He just hoped that she visited again soon before the next scheduled court day so that he could see her once more. Because whether she shared his feeling or not, he couldn't do this without her.

…. …. ….

"Are you seriously telling me that Malfoy was violent with Pansy fucking Parkinson while we were at school?"

Hermione winced at the question, but shook her head slowly, feeling surprisingly calm even though she was recounting events that had been so emotionally distressing to her just a couple of short days ago. She smiled softly at Lavender's incredulous expression and explained,

"No, I'm telling you that Pansy Parkinson _claimed_ that Draco was violent with her."

Lavender snorted and shrugged her shoulders, accepting the point that her new friend was trying to make. They were reclining together on two chairs that Hermione had transfigured from a couple of fallen branches. Their backs were to the warm sun as they lazed on the lawn at Hogwarts, staring out over the peacefully still panorama of the lake.

"And of course, darling Pansy would say anything for attention," Lavender mused with a thoughtful tone.

"Exactly," Hermione agreed.

The blonde girl pursed her lips as she considered this. After some time she turned back with a slight frown, considering her new friend hesitantly.

"And you really don't believe for one second that this accusation could be…true?"

Hermione was certain she looked appalled at the question.

"Of course not!"

"Not even a little bit?"

She shook her head adamantly.

"He's just not like that, Lavender. And besides, Pansy has always manipulated thing to get her way."

Lavender quirked up one sardonic eyebrow.

"Oh, whereas Draco Malfoy was the picture of gentlemanly behaviour when we were at Hogwarts," she drawled sarcastically. Hermione snorted and dropped her head with a light tremor of laughter.

"Point taken."

Lavender gave her a direct look.

"Just because he appears to have changed now doesn't mean he wasn't a little prick back at school. You surely haven't forgiven him for all the horrible things he used to say to you?"

Hermione felt a twinge of sadness at the reminder, struggling to reconcile the vicious, hurtful boy from school with the new man she was acquainted with today. He was barely recognisable. But then again, they all were. Ron, Lavender, Harry… they had all changed so much after being forced to fight in a war at such a young age. And none of their experiences had been as horrifying as Draco's. Being trapped on the inside, witnessing the horrors of Voldemort and his followers first hand must have affected him profoundly.

"I _have_ forgiven him," she said quietly and with conviction, "how can I hold a grudge against a man who hardly resembles the boy that said those things?"

Lavender blinked at her, a slow smile forming on her face.

"You're far too nice. If it were me, I'd have made him grovel a bit more first!"

Hermione laughed easily at the other girl's joke. She had been eager to come see the blonde again, especially after everything that had happened recently. For someone who had never had many female friends in her life, she had desperately wanted advice from a source other than Harry and Ron.

"He seems to be doing a fair bit of grovelling anyway, despite already earning my forgiveness."

Lavender sat up straighter, a curious expression on her face.

"Ah! Now we get to the naughty details. And how is your forbidden romance going?"

Hermione chortled, shaking her head and trying to look casual as she leaned back in her chair.

"It doesn't exist."

"Liar."

She allowed a private smile to grace her lips.

"I'm not lying! Draco and I have a purely platonic friendship based on a mutual desire to win his freedom."

Lavender scoffed inelegantly.

"More like a mutual desire to shag like rabbits."

Hermione's mouth dropped open in surprise at the comment.

"Lavender!"

"What? I've seen the way you look all hot and bothered when we talk about dearest Draco. You want him."

Hermione glared at her friend.

"It doesn't matter anyway," she lectured glumly, "Because the case seems to be going so poorly and Draco is half mad with depression."

Lavender smirked.

"You'll have to think of a way to cheer him up."

That earned her another groan as Hermione hid her face behind her hands.

"I've tried," she began before spotting Lavender's grin, "Not _that_ way! I mean I've been trying to draw him out of his shell, but he can be so…so…"

"Intense?"

Hermione smirked, thinking of the moment they'd shared alone together at the ministry. When he had pressed his forehead against hers and cradled her face so tenderly in his hands. It had seemed awfully…intimate.

"You have no idea," Hermione eventually said with a meaningful look.

Lavender grinned again and shifted her wounded leg so that she was sitting upright.

"Oooh… please enlighten me then."

Although she knew that Draco was an incredibly private person, and she didn't have a lot of experience in this field herself, she really did want to open up to the blonde girl in front of her. She needed to get this off her chest and seek another opinion. Not to mention, she was more than a little confused by the whole thing.

"Well, er… the other day after the opening arguments we were alone together at the court. And he got really close, he was holding me actually-" Lavender squealed and clapped her hands together, but managed to calm herself at Hermione's stern look. "Anyway, he said we needed to talk. He started to say something but we were interrupted."

Lavender's eyes widened comically.

"What do you think he was going to say?"

She frowned and twisted her fingers together.

"I'm not sure. But…it seemed to be something, uh… _passionate._ "

The blonde girl gaped at her.

"How do you know?"

Hermione thought carefully, recalling every detail of his tone, words and facial expressions from that moment. The memory made her feel a strange mixture of excitement and discomfort.

"I can't explain it. He was just so…focused. And when our eyes met like that, I could hardly breathe!"

Lavender gave an exaggerated shiver.

"Goodness!" she exclaimed with a thrill, "I'm positively melting just hearing about it. You must have just been a puddle on the floor."

Hermione giggled.

"I wasn't sure how to react to be honest. I could hardly look at him afterwards for fear of blushing."

The other girl grimaced awkwardly and cocked her head to one side.

"Do you not welcome his attention?" she asked in a puzzled tone.

"I don't know," she groaned, knotting her fingers through her curls, "It's too complicated."

"Does he know yet that you're not with Ron? You told me he might have read that article in the Daily Prophet…"

Hermione nodded numbly.

"He would have read it, yes. But I haven't said anything to him about Ron. How can I? How would I even bring it up without sounding like a fool?"

Lavender clucked her tongue.

"Easy. Just walk in there next time and say _Hey, guess what? I'm single! Now kiss me you sexy Slytherin!_ "

Hermione actually threw her head back and laughed.

"And is that how you won Ron over?" she asked with genuine mirth.

"Of course," Lavender said with a winning smile and a casual shrug of one shoulder, "He couldn't resist my charms after that!"

The girls laughed again, before Hermione felt a twinge of guilt and sobered.

"But I haven't even been to see him since the first day of the trial. Of course, I'm going to see him tomorrow in court, but…he's going to be so angry with me for not visiting him. I'm the only contact he has."

Lavender frowned at her words.

"Why haven't you gone?"

"I'm just so confused, Lavender. There's this tension between us that's almost palpable, and I keep worrying it will escalate somehow."

Lavender looked confused.

"Is that a bad thing?"

Hermione grimaced with a self-deprecating expression.

"He's not exactly my usual type."

The other girl snorted and flipped back her curls.

"Let me guess… nice boys you can take home to meet the parents?"

"Pretty much."

"So you mean to tell me you _don't_ usually like conceited Slytherin millionaires with a bad boy complex and gorgeous looks to boot?"

Hermione shook her head with a wry smile.

"Not typically, no."

Lavender waved her hand dismissively.

"Merlin's crusty beard, Hermione! Just loosen up and see how it goes. What's the worst that could happen?"

She stared at the blonde girl, chewing on her bottom lip.

"I could get my heart broken," she muttered dryly, but Lavender just smiled even more widely.

"Sounds perfect! After all, how can I live vicariously through you from my recovery bed if you don't at least ramp up the dramatics a notch."

Hermione snorted, relaxing back into her chair again as a splashing from the lake signalled the arrival of the giant squid, which had been rather lethargic since the battle at Hogwarts.

"Oh don't worry, Lavender. There are plenty of dramatics going on, even by your standards."

" _Splendid_."

The two girls exchanged a brief glance before bursting into laughter again. The giant squid spurted water in their direction before sloshing back down beneath the surface of the water.

…. …. ….

Draco tried to focus on what his mother was saying to him as she fussed over his hair and clothes. They sat in one corner of the small antechamber to one side of the courtroom, and once more the nerves of what was to come were getting to him. It didn't help that they were all alone in the dark space. His eyes kept flicking towards the door, but to no avail. A powerful surge of bitterness rose up in him. He had not seen Hermione since the opening of the trial. In the four days since then she had not bothered to visit him in prison like she usually did. Why hadn't she come? Was it possible she really had believed some of Pansy's accusations? Draco squirmed in his seat as Narcissa smoothed back the hair that had grown long enough now to flop a bit over his forehead. He felt exposed suddenly, as if his whole life was being flaunted for the public like some kind of circus. And Hermione had been the only thing keeping him steady. Even though she confused him and made him feel the most extreme and intense emotions, she was still his calm port in this storm. But it seemed as though she was suddenly avoiding him.

"So, how's everything going?" he asked nervously, trying to ignore his mother's shrewd looks.

"What do you mean?" the blond woman asked innocently.

"I haven't heard anything since I was last here…" he began in a slightly questioning tone, his brows furrowing together.

"What about Hermione?"

He didn't answer her. He just scowled and sat there sullenly until she clearly put the pieces together herself. Before she could say anything, however, the door creaked open with uncertainty and the very witch herself he had been obsessing over appeared. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable frown of worry. But as she sidled into the room, she merely exchanged a quick glance and a smile with his mother, and did not meet his gaze. Draco stared at her hungrily. He watched intently as Hermione shuffled her feet and looked around the room in a panic, as though wishing she were somewhere else. It stung. He felt an icy chill in his chest where he figured his heart had decided to stop beating. It didn't take his mother long to pick up on the palpable tension in the room, or his fierce reaction to the Gryffindor's sudden uncomfortable presence.

"Oh is that the time? We're starting soon! I urgently need to speak to Mr Kennard about some financial matters. If you'll excuse me…"

She glided from the room without a backward glance. Draco rolled his eyes at her obvious behaviour, but was secretly glad for the privacy. He rose slowly to his feet and stepped closer to Hermione, but she continued to stare at the floor. He felt a twinge of annoyance at her obstinacy.

"Hermione-"

He saw her flinch at the sound of her name, but she still didn't lift her gaze. He moved even closer to her.

"Hermione, look at me," he urged her in a quiet, demanding voice that had a little bit of a husky edge to it. He shifted so close to her that she had no choice but to acknowledge him; she could no longer physically distance herself from him. The heat from her body was seeping into his cold skin even through his suit. It seemed to take an age, but eventually she raised her eyes to his. He could see those flecks of gold in them again.

"Hi," she whispered with a nervous smile, which Draco didn't return.

"Why didn't you come see me this week?" he asked her directly, knowing they didn't have much time. He saw her squirm uneasily as she bit down into her bottom lip.

"We were so busy preparing for today's part of the trial! I didn't have time…"

He shook his head and leaned in so close he felt like he was drowning in her scent. Her short breaths were puffing rapidly against his face.

"I don't believe you," he muttered. When Hermione shifted awkwardly and went to look at the ground between them, Draco felt a surge of stubbornness. He grasped her cheeks in his hands and forced her to hold his gaze, "Why, Hermione?"

She shook her head vigorously and he felt her swaying curls tickle his knuckles.

"I'm sorry," she pleaded in a small voice, "I know it was selfish of me and you were all alone. I was just scared."

Draco blinked in surprise, observing her with trepidation.

"Scared of _me?_ "

Her eyes widened.

"Merlin _no!_ Just scared of making things worse, or more complicated than they already are."

Draco considered her words. He could tell that she was genuinely frightened; her big brown eyes had an expression of terror burned into them. But he had no idea what he was supposed to say to her.

"How could you possibly make things any worse?" he eventually asked, his lips twitching up into a self-deprecating smirk. She smiled back gently, but still looked deeply troubled as she clearly worked up the courage to say what was on her mind.

"Draco…there's something you should know. About that Daily Prophet article."

Draco frowned and thought back to the various articles that had been written about him over the last few days. There had been so many front pages and ugly photos plastered all over that awful paper that he wasn't sure to which one she was referring.

"Which one?" he asked in confusion, "The one about that bitch Pansy?"

Hermione shook her head firmly.

"No, the one about _me…_ "

Draco scowled as he tried to figure out what she was saying. He couldn't remember any articles specifically about her since…

Draco's hands jerked and he held more tightly onto her jaw, his fingers twitching against her skin. Only one example rushed strongly to mind. Was she talking about the article debating her upcoming engagement to that prick Weasley? That was weeks ago, but he couldn't think of any other. He felt a muscle spasm in his temple as he scowled at her.

"What about it?" he growled darkly. He saw Hermione visibly swallow but he just kept his hold on her face so she would not be able to escape his scrutiny.

"Ron and I…well, he took me to dinner that evening to have a chat, but you should know that…uh…"

Hermione was stumbling over her words and there was a distinct blush on her cheeks. Draco felt his gut plummet. He wanted to vomit, actually. How could he just stand there while she confessed to being in love with someone else? Because that was what she was surely doing, right? She had become uncomfortable with his intimate behaviour around her and she wanted to let him down gently. She had claimed she was scared of making things worse. That meant that she wanted to keep her relationship with that Weasley tosser safe while he was just relegated to the role of friend or pity project. Draco's skin crawled at the sickening thought. A headache began to steadily blossom from a dull throb into a stabbing pain. It caused him to abandon rational thought.

"Hermione," he gasped, hardly able to breathe and unwilling to wait for her to blunder her way through her declaration, "please…"

He paused as she blinked and tilted her head to the side in surprise. But he had to say his piece. He soldiered on with a pounding heart.

"Please don't choose him."

Draco watched as her long lashes fluttered a bit before opening to stare at him. Her gaze was wide; so round he felt like he was falling down and drowning in those brown depths.

"What?" she stammered, sucking air into her longs so quickly he was worried she would hyperventilate.

"Don't. Choose. Him," he repeated deliberately, his voice croaky and barely audible, even in the small, enclosed room.

Hermione shook her head numbly for a few moments, clearly shocked.

"But I'm not-"

Before she could say anything, the door opened with a dramatic bang and Kennard strode in, a cross expression on his normally calm face. Draco released his grip on the curly haired girl in front of him and stood back nervously, cursing under his breath at their terrible timing. His pulse was still thundering. Had he revealed his interest too soon? He might be completely head over heels in love with her, but that didn't mean she felt the same. For all he knew she might have been waiting for the perfect moment to slap him across the face for his impertinence.

"The ministry prosecutor is calling you as a witness," Kennard panted, staring directly at Hermione who had turned several shades paler, not just at his words but the moment she had shared with Draco before he arrived. He drank in her flustered appearance, fearing her rejection, when he suddenly absorbed what Kennard had said.

"Wait… _what_?" he spluttered. The older man nodded briskly and ushered Hermione towards the door, gesturing for Draco to follow.

"He's obviously going to ask you about your torture at the manor, dear. He'll try to trick you into showing Mister Malfoy in a bad light. Do you think you'll be alright to talk about it?" the kindly man asked, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. Hermione froze on the spot and stared at him.

"Oh…I guess…" Draco frowned at her tone. She didn't sound certain at all. Before he could say anything to reassure her, Kennard was pushing them both towards the courtroom again.

"Just don't forget what we talked about last week," he heard the lawyer murmur close to her ear as the swarm of ministry officials became audible, rising like the humming of a colony of angry bees. Draco stared at the back of Hermione's curly head as they entered, his mouth completely dry. He felt his stomach clench as she turned around to shoot a panicked look in his direction, and he tried to nod comfortingly at her. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, turning to face the court as they entered. He admired the way she was holding her head up high. Draco watched her unblinkingly the whole time, not tearing his eyes away from her until they were both taking their seats and he was no longer facing in her direction. But his senses were filled with her. _Next time_ , he vowed to himself, clenching his fingers around the arms of his wooden chair until his joints ached, _I'm going to make sure we're not interrupted._

And then Kingsley was calling for order in the court and all eyes turned curiously towards the curly haired Gryffindor who sat behind Draco and who had just been called to testify against him.

….

 **More trial proceedings next chapter obviously. Pretty please with a cherry on top leave lots of reviews - they inspire me to write faster!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

 **Sorry about all the cliff-hangers. They're so mean. I'm hoping you will enjoy this chapter and not hate me too much. As always JKR is the original magician, not me.**

...

The courtroom seemed to swallow them whole when they entered, bearing down with a threatening rumble of voices and snapping its doors closed like a snarl of warning to those inside. Hermione's palms were itchy with sweat and no matter how many times she wiped them on her jeans she couldn't seem to dry them. It was with an unsteady gait that she moved towards the witness box. Even though she knew it had been coming, she still felt a jolt of terror when she heard her name called by the court official.

"Miss Granger…"

Hermione watched with trepidation as Jenkins stepped up to his podium, looking as calm and unruffled as always. She couldn't help feeling like an insect being surveyed by some predator from above. The odious man shuffled his notes in an imperious manner, taking his precious time. He was obviously pausing for dramatic effect to keep her in a state of unbearable suspense. Hermione's eyes darted to the defence box.

 _Oh no…_

Both Harry and Ron were sitting there, she realised with a shiver of surprise. She had been so wrapped up in her dread and increasing panic that she hadn't even noticed them enter. Harry gave her a small wave and a grimace. He clearly wasn't happy about her having to testify about her torture, but he was conveying his support in his usual affectionate and totally artless way. Ron, on the other hand, looked ferocious. Having only heard of the trial second-hand, he was clearly outraged about his friend's treatment. His face was so flushed it clashed horrendously with his orange hair.

Hermione's eyes drifted over to Narcissa, but couldn't hold the other woman's gaze for long. The blonde woman was looking far too uncomfortable. She was no doubt feeling painfully self-conscious about her own role in the events at Malfoy manor. And then she became aware of Draco, sitting in the front of the box, his face screwed up with a half-deranged expression of shame. She quickly turned away. It was too much. She couldn't bear his guilt. His eyes were hollow and glazed over like he was trying not to break down. It was making her feel even more nervous than before. So instead, Hermione turned her attention with forced politeness back to Jenkins who was slowly clearing his throat and beginning his interrogation. She sat up a little straighter and tried to push away all the unpleasant thoughts and just focus on one thing; she was doing this for Draco.

"Could you please provide a brief recount for us of the events that occurred at Malfoy Manor in the final week of March, 1998?"

Hermione took a deep breath, allowing herself a few moments to gather her thoughts and build up her courage. She welled up with grit determination. She was the brightest witch of her age. She could stand up to this useless tosser. In a quiet, serene voice she replied,

"When we accidentally broke Voldemort's taboo, Harry, Ron and myself were all captured by snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix Lestrange wanted to know where we got the sword of Gryffindor, since I had it in my possession. She separated us, locked the boys in the cellar and then tried to get me to reveal where we stole it from. She was not successful and we escaped."

Jenkins and the rest of the court had obviously expected her to continue, but Hermione was certain that being concise was a much better idea. She was also certain he would continue to grill her, and she wasn't about to make it easy for him.

"Right. Well, Miss Granger. I'm sure we're all aware what a sensitive topic this is, but could you please elaborate on the nature of Bellatrix's interrogation."

She heard a slight splutter of indignation to her left, which was undoubtedly Ron expressing his disgust, but she ignored him in favour of returning Jenkins's sharp look with one of chilling coldness.

 _I won't let him get to me…_ she thought firmly. Collecting herself once more during a long, silent pause that clearly unsettled the court, she recalled her torture at the manor grimly. It flashed across the edges of her memories like she was just waking from a terrible nightmare.

"She used the Cruciatus curse on me for a prolonged period. She also made some cuts in my skin using a cursed dagger."

Her answer was short and to the point. She knew what Jenkins was trying to do. He wanted to paint a picture of cruelty and anguish that would taint the Wizengamot's opinion of everyone who was present at the manor that night, as well as her own mental capacity. Her support of Draco would be much more unreliable if she were depicted as some kind of deranged lunatic whose mind had been warped by unforgivable curses. Jenkins watched her closely for a moment, clearly unsatisfied with her response. His expression was rather sly when he pressed on.

"Exactly how prolonged was this torture with the Cruciatus?"

A couple of people could be heard muttering from somewhere amongst the gathered officials, but otherwise the silence was oppressive. Hermione was sure everyone could hear the racing of her pulse as she tried to keep a calm façade, even though the cackling laugh of Bellatrix was ringing in her ears like a taunt.

"I received regular bouts for around fifteen to twenty minutes," she answered in a barely audible voice. There was a sort of collective gasp that echoed around the chamber, which didn't surprise her at all. It shocked even _her_ that she had been able to endure it for so long. The determination to protect all their horrible secrets had been like a shot of pure adrenalin to her system, giving her the strength to survive. Not to mention pure dumb luck that Bellatrix had been so tremendously angry that the witch had almost been too crazy and unfocused to cast it properly or to its greatest effect. But Jenkins was determined to make her look weak in front of the court.

"Could you please describe it? What was the nature of your experience with the curse?"

Hermione frowned darkly. She could see a number of people up in the tiered seats shaking their heads and whispering to each other. Draco looked murderous.

"Why?" she asked a bit bluntly, not really concerned if she sounded too belligerent or not. Jenkins smiled dryly.

"So that we might establish the mood at the manor during this time, and to shed light on the typical experiences of muggleborn victims who were taken to Malfoy manor. Since you were one of the only survivors, of course."

His voice was perfectly calm but there was a glint in his eye that Hermione didn't like. She scowled at him for a long moment, a muscle twitching in her jaw.

"It was incredibly painful," she finally said curtly, not adding any more detail than the bare minimum.

" _Where_ exactly did it hurt?" Jenkins urged.

She ground her teeth together as Bellatrix's manic, almost aroused eyes flashed in front of her, like they did in her most terrifying dreams. It was as clear to her now as if she were experiencing it all over again. Those eyes had stared in a way that suggested Bellatrix's whole body was alight with exhilaration from inflicting pain on a mudblood. The way her mouth had stretched into a crooked, almost skeletal smile…

"Everywhere and nowhere at once. It felt like it was seeping down to my very bones. And time seemed to pass in an irregular way. It felt shorter somehow. But I do remember the pauses between each curse; it was like taking a deep breath of air after drowning."

The words escaped her all at once as though she had lost her restraint. She looked sheepishly down at the floor when she was finished. The courtroom was eerily silent. When she finally allowed her eyes to flicker back upwards, she noticed that Jenkins looked rather smug. He puffed out his chest and continued,

"Did you fear for your life?"

She shuddered, recalling the numbness of losing all hope that had washed over her.

"Yes."

"So you think Bellatrix would have killed you?"

Hermione paused and considered the question warily.

"I think she was planning on doing far worse things than killing me to be perfectly honest."

Although it was said in a clear, controlled tone, she did have to clench her hands together in her lap to stop them from shaking.

"Cruciatus curse is well known for its long term effects on victims. Do you still suffer these long term effects of her torture today?"

Hermione shrugged and squirmed a bit awkwardly in her seat. Her eyes darted around the courtroom, but no one seemed to offer a way out. If anything they were all looking insatiably curious.

"Yes."

"Could you describe these effects?"

She stared fixedly at the ground when she answered. The last thing Hermione wanted was to see Harry and Ron, or Merlin forbid Draco, looking at her in horror. She was pretty sure none of them even realised the extent of her suffering.

"I get tremors and cramps in my arms and legs," she replied tersely, not wanting to elaborate. But Jenkins wouldn't let it drop.

"I have a record here of frequent visits you have made to a muggle psychiatrist in Australia. What was the nature of these visits? Were they related to your chronic insomnia and nightmares?"

Hermione blanched. She had no idea how Jenkins knew about her medical history, but it was true that she had met with a PTSD specialist in Sydney when she was reconnecting with her parents. She bristled at the implication that magic had been used to breach the typical confidentiality given to patients in the muggle world. It seemed so backward to circumvent that privacy, no doubt with some tricky detection charms. But then, the whole wizarding world was terribly antiquated. She refused to let this loathsome man trap her into some rambling confession of a madwoman.

"That is none of your business," she snapped in a crisp voice.

Jenkins scowled.

"You have been bound to speak with the utmost honesty before the Wizengamot, Miss Granger."

"And I have. But unless your questions specifically relate to Mister Malfoy, I fail to see the purpose in delving into my medical history."

"That is not up to you to decide. Answer the question."

" _No._ "

Shocked whispering spread across the court like wildfire. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry grinning, but ignored him since she was too wrapped up in her own fury and outrage.

"Minister, the witness is being uncooperative. I recommend that we apply the veritaserum."

There were a few gasps heard around the room. That was usually administered only to criminals and untrustworthy characters. But Jenkins was determined to draw the truth out of her and manipulate it until she looked like a raving banshee with some form of Stockholm Syndrome. Mr Kennard stood to his feet calmly, a wry twinkle in his eye.

"I hardly think that's necessary, Minister."

Kingsley watched them all with a thoughtful expression. Hermione took savage glee in noticing that Jenkins looked incredibly frustrated at her refusal to answer his question. He had obviously thought that her age and inexperience would have made her easier to bully. But he had underestimated her. His face was like a shade of pumice as he turned towards Kingsley in an appeal for support. But the broad shouldered man wore a cool, expressionless mask as he folded his arms in front of him.

"Miss Granger's got a point, Jenkins. Stick to the relevant details," the minister's deep voice boomed over the courtroom, and she saw a few people nodding in agreement. Most, however, looked disappointed not to have her intimate secrets revealed like cheap gossip. Jenkins huffed in a sort of angry panic before glaring back down at her again. Obviously he had not banked on her having Kingsley's support. He took a few moments to compose himself and get back on track.

"So from what you've described of your torture, is it right to conclude that you were not fully conscious of what was happening around you?" he asked, his eyes flickering over towards Draco. Hermione blinked in surprise. Her hands were trembling from the supressed memories that had been rushing to the surface all at once, as well as her own gutsy defiance. She knew she wasn't supposed to be making enemies, but it was so hard to relinquish her stubbornness around this man.

"I wouldn't say that exactly," she responded firmly, though her voice still shook.

"But you said yourself you were not aware of time passing."

Hermione pursed her lips and returned his stare with her own challenging one. She knew he was still trying to bait her into appearing weak.

"Yes, but I had moments of extreme clarity as well. I may have been in terrible pain, but I was not insensate to what was going on around me."

Jenkins frowned and shuffled his notes.

"And in these _moments of clarity,_ do you recall seeing Mister Malfoy?"

Hermione nodded calmly, not even flinching at the question.

"Of course. It was his house."

"So you admit he participated in your torture?"

Hermione snorted, pushing aside her fears in favour of a wave of intense scorn.

"No, I said he was _there_. I never said he participated."

Jenkins spread his hands out wide with an incredulous expression on his face.

"So what was he doing then? It was his _father's_ house. His _aunt_ was actively hurting you, and yet by your account he remains blameless…"

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. It was hurting more than she'd realised it would to relive that night. But if there was one thing that stood out about that evening in her mind, it was the look on Draco's face. She settled her nerves with a stern reminder to keep it together.

"He wasn't even there to begin with. He was summoned by his father, and I could tell he was reluctant to help them from the outset. He refused to positively identify us. And the whole time he clearly didn't want to be there-"

Jenkins held up his hand to interrupt.

"So are you saying that he _didn't_ try to help you?"

She scoffed, shooting him a cold look.

"What was he supposed to do? He basically had a tracking device imprinted in his arm with dark magic. Was he supposed to whisk me away until they hunted him down? Risk his mother's safety? He was just as trapped as I was."

"Did he say something to you? Apologise? Or tell you he was _trapped?_ "

Hermione shook her head.

"No."

Jenkins looked around him quizzically, brows raised.

"Then how could you possible know this?"

She shrugged a bit uncomfortably, remembering the piercing intensity of Draco's stare, the sheer terror she had seen there.

"I could just tell. He looked…scared."

Jenkins made a scoffing sound.

"And did any of his _actions_ at that time support this wild, and frankly implausible, interpretation of yours?"

Hermione was about to pull out her trump card. After being forced to play the victim this whole time, she finally had the upper hand. And when she allowed her lips to stretch into a grin, she saw the moment when Jenkins realised it too.

"Yes, actually. Harry's mastery of the elder wand."

There was a shocked, baffled silence for a few moments, before a sea of muttering broke out. The most prominent mood spreading through the room was confusion. Jenkins was white. She could see him trying to put the pieces together, and when he did he looked like he was going to be sick. He fumbled with his notes, his calm demeanour gone.

"Thank you Miss Granger," he said in a rush, "No further questions."

He hurriedly went to sit down, but Hermione was quicker. She cleared her throat and raised her hands out with an amused smile.

"Excuse me, Mister Jenkins, but I wasn't finished answering your question. Don't you want me to finish?"

The silence was sudden and complete then. All eyes were fixed on her. There was a remarkable focus that had descended on the room. Harry looked gleeful. Kingsley actually sat forwards in his seat.

"I don't…that is to say I was not-" Jenkins stammered, for the first time losing his cool and looking genuinely perturbed. The minster for magic waved his hand imperiously.

"Please continue, Miss Granger," Kingsley declared, "You have us all in suspense."

Hermione smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. You could have heard a pin drop. Jenkins leaned back in his seat worriedly as she began.

"Thanks to the Daily Prophet's overly zealous reporting, everyone here already knows the basic story of Harry being the master of the wand that Voldemort was using the night of the final battle. But they were a bit sketchy on the details. You see; Draco was actually the previous master of the wand. He was the one who had disarmed Dumbledore, so its mastery passed to him, not Snape. Then on _that night_ at Malfoy manor, Harry came into possession of Draco's own wand."

"How?" Kingsley asked, clearly taking over the questioning.

"By physical force, not magical. "

Kingsley frowned lightly in confusion, the new information clearly turning over in his mind. The same expression was mirrored on every face present.

"So Harry overpowered him? How does that show any reluctance then?"

Hermione smiled indulgently at the obvious bewilderment passed around as a whisper between people in the courtroom. Even Ron did not know where she was going with this. But by the bleak look in his eyes, Jenkins did.

"Minister, I really must object-"

Kingsley held up an authoritative hand to stem his arguments.

"You started this line of questioning, Wallace. You don't have the grounds to dismiss her testimony."

He gestured to Hermione to continue and she shot him a brief, conspiratorial smile of gratitude.

"Simply grabbing someone's wand from his or her hand is not powerful enough to alter who its master is," she explained in a newly confident tone, back in her comfort zone. She always felt safe when describing complex magic. "That would be ridiculous. Otherwise half the first year students at Hogwarts would find their wands betraying them from time to time. For the elder wand – the most potent wand in the world – to switch its allegiance to Harry, there had to be something deeper going on. The truth is that Draco _surrendered_ his magic to Harry. Although not a conscious decision, he did willingly transfer his wand's ownership to Harry in that moment. Because on a purely magical level, I believe he wanted Harry to succeed just as fiercely as he wanted Voldemort to be defeated. And the magic of the wand responded to his hidden, even maybe unaware intentions. It is the only logical explanation."

Jenkins couldn't stand it anymore. He shot to his feet.

"That's preposterous. You have absolutely no proof of such a ludicrous claim."

Mr Kennard also rose, although he did it with a great deal more decorum.

"Minister, we would be more than happy to provide the expert testimony of Mister Ollivander, who is not only knowledgeable in wand lore but was also present during and after the events at Malfoy manor."

Kingsley looked thoughtfully at both Mr Kennard and herself.

"Have you consulted with him?"

"Of course, sir," Kennard replied with a surprisingly cheeky smile. She felt savagely pleased that she had taken the man into her confidence during their many meetings. It had been his suggestion that they clarify her opinion based on her own research with a more legitimate source. A move that may have paid off.

"Very well, we will conduct an interview with him to add to the court records," Kingsley agreed with a gentle smile that softened his bold features. Mr Kennard inclined his head politely and sat down again. But Jenkins was not ready to succumb to defeat yet.

"I am not finished questioning Miss Granger," he declared rather petulantly. Kingsley's face turned grim again as he observed the predatory, slimy man over the top of his linked fingers. But he was admirably calm when he eventually replied,

"I think that perhaps you should cut your losses with Miss Granger, Wallace. You might be out of your depth here."

There were a few giggles muffled across the length of the courtroom and Hermione looked around with bemused surprise. Several people were smiling at her in genuine amusement, visibly impressed, while others merely looked on with detached interest. Only a few were still wearing scowls of disapproval. Jenkins looked livid, but didn't reply.

"You are dismissed, Miss Granger. We will adjourn proceedings for today and will return tomorrow with new witnesses."

Kingsley smiled again, almost privately, in her direction before allowing the court to disperse. Hermione practically leapt to her feet with a huge sigh of relief and turned towards the defence box. Almost the entire time she had been questioned, she had hardly once looked in Draco's direction. But now their eyes met at last. Within milliseconds the tension between them became acute. She didn't think she had ever seen him look so guilty in his life. His eyes were round and shadowed with pain. Hermione swallowed, feeling sudden dryness in her throat. She should have warned him that if she were questioned about her torture, he might find out more unpleasant details about the extent of her suffering. But she had been too afraid. She tried to smile at him, but it came out looking cracked and dejected. Draco blinked at her, piercing her with his stare, before jerking his head to one side in a meaningful way. She realised he was signalling towards their side room. Her gaze lowered bashfully. She wasn't sure what to do. But it was clear to her that he was deeply troubled by what he had heard. And she owed him some kind of explanation or clemency to help ease his sense of shame about what had happened to her. Sighing once more, Hermione nodded her head and stepped down from her seat in the witness stand. She hoped that Draco understood that he wasn't to blame, but more importantly she hoped that some miracle would appear to help soothe whatever was hanging in the air between them. Because whatever it was, the life debt seemed to be responding by tightening its grip like an icy hand in her chest. And it was taking all her courage not to run in the other direction.

…. …. ….

It felt like an endless moment that Draco sat there with his eyes fixed on her petite figure as she rose tenderly from the witness stand. Hermione had been absolutely marvellous. If he hadn't already realised he was in love with her, he would have fallen for her all over again.

But was it true that she was suffering insomnia and traumatic nightmares still after all this time? He was only too familiar with symptoms like those; he experienced them too. And it had only been worse since his imprisonment started. But the very idea that she could have endured so much hit him deeply like a burning sensation in his gut. The fact that she had remained so strong throughout all this, and that she had actively helped _him_ as well spoke volumes of her goodness.

 _Shit, I'm in trouble,_ he thought for the millionth time as she bounced down from the stand and made her way towards them. She was so beautiful right now, descending from her triumphant throne. Her curls were rich and soft, spilling over her shoulders as they caressed her curves right down the length of her back. He had tried to motion for her to meet him in the side room, but wasn't sure if she'd understood. She hadn't given any indication that she wanted to spend time alone with him after their intense conversation earlier. He was sure she had been on the verge of telling him something important when they were interrupted.

Draco stood from his seat as she approached. He wiped his hands on his pants and then ran them through his hair to try and slick it back off his forehead self-consciously.

When she finally reached them, a lingering skip of nervousness in her step, she smiled fondly at a point over his shoulder. He frowned in confusion until he remembered that her moronic friends were still there. Before he could capture her attention, the two boys leapt down the stairs and surrounded her in a protective huddle. Draco suddenly felt like an outsider. The hairs on his neck prickled unpleasantly and made him shudder. Despite months of isolation in prison, he had never felt as alone as he did right now. Both boys draped their arms over her shoulders supportively, causing a fierce stab of annoyance in the pit of his stomach. But none of that compared to the moment when Weasley whispered something in her ear. The boy gave her a loving smile and murmured a word or two in such an intimate way that it made Draco's blood boil. A wave of crippling nausea overcame him. Then the ginger haired menace lifted a gangly, clumsy hand and tucked one of Hermione's curls back off her forehead.

When her eyes eventually lifted slowly to meet his, Draco jerked his head angrily once more towards the side room. His movements were abrupt and fuelled by nothing more than pure unadulterated jealousy.

Hermione sunk her teeth down hard into her bottom lip but gave a tentative nod. He watched unblinkingly as she excused herself from her two friends, following her actions with rapt attention. His eyes stayed focused on her as she murmured her farewells. Weasley grasped her arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Draco wanted to hit him so badly he had to bite down hard on his tongue. He gestured to his guard who stood back and let him walk freely into the room.

His pulse was rushing in his ears, blocking out all other sound except the tapping of their footsteps, walking in sync as they crossed the threshold. The thoughts swirling around his mind were muddled and desperate. He was still rather stunned by her magnificent control of the courtroom, putting the hateful Wallace Jenkins firmly in his place. Mixed with this, however, was a heavy dose of horror at what she was going through.

 _He might be a bloody wanker, but Jenkins was right – I_ **should** _have done something to save her that night._

And then to add insult to injury, he had just stood there dumbly, enviously, while she shared a cosy moment with her stupid boyfriend. The redhead had put his hands all over her. As the door closed firmly behind them, Draco was seized with the mad urge to wipe this memory from his mind and hers. A primitive part of him took control, the desire to show her exactly who she belonged with overriding all other reason or emotion.

No sooner had the door closed than Draco grasped her face firmly in his hands. He brushed the curls behind her ears and cradled her head in a way that forced her to meet his eye. The movement of grabbing Hermione and pulling her so close to him coupled with her absolute astonishment led to them both stumbling backwards until he was pressing her against the wall. He heard the husky gasp of air she drew in, cut short by the force of the wall. There was only a split second during which his eyes drooped and flickered to stare hungrily at her lips before he was kissing her.

 _Oh… fuck…_

It was everything that he had fantasised about and more. A few weeks of slightly tepid showers and far too much abstinence had started adding fuel to his dreams about her. In them, he kissed her tenderly and she reciprocated with a soft, awakening passion, escalating the flames of his desire. But those were just idle daydreams compared to the reality. Her lips were achingly soft and tasted even sweeter than he had imagined, like butterscotch and spearmint. He angled his head to the side, tugging on her hair to tilt her neck backwards and give him more access to her. When Hermione whimpered and opened her mouth to him, he couldn't help himself from pressing her entire body into the wall like a vice, stilling her squirming so that he might have a chance to calm his racing heart and taper down the hot spike of lust surging within him.

 _So perfect…_

Draco began to press fierce, demanding kisses on her lips countless times, each kiss lingering a little longer than the last as he tasted her in every way possible. Although she was too stunned to return his exploration of her mouth with any finesse, she certainly wasn't resisting either. She seemed to just melt into the wall, boneless, while he made love to her lips. He stroked them and teased them further apart, tasting her thoroughly before sucking her bottom lip indolently into his mouth. He bit down on the flesh and dragged his teeth so softly across her lip he could actually feel her body shudder underneath his. He wanted to wipe all thought of Weasley completely from her mind. He would bet his entire Malfoy fortune that she had never been kissed like this by that ginger oaf. The very thought made him so angry that he redoubled his efforts to imprint himself onto her very soul the way she had done to his. When his tongue finally touched hers with just the lightest contact it was like a jolt of lightening to his nervous system.

It took more time than he was proud to admit to realise the moment when she no longer wanted him to continue. Her boneless body lost its softness under his. She had tensed up and he could feel her nails dig sharply into the skin near his collarbone as she tried to pry herself from him.

Once he became aware of her reluctance, Draco immediately stepped away from her, his eyes glassy and wide. He was panting as he watched her collect herself from where she still stood slumped and supporting herself against the wall. He was barely able to form a coherent thought. His mind was scrambled and filled only with the most visceral images of taking her right here, right now.

"Draco-" she gasped, her face open and unguarded in an expression of what he could only surmise was panic. A slither of doubt crept into his over-stimulated mind. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and watched her cautiously, his breathing so heavy it sounded terribly loud in the quiet room.

"I scared you," he noted in a hoarse voice, a pang of worry stabbing him, "I shouldn't have just jumped on you like that. I'm sorry…" Draco sighed in frustration, his hands still gripping his hair so tightly his roots ached, "…but I've wanted to do that for a _very_ long time now."

Hermione's face flushed an ever darker shade of crimson. She had been beautiful before, but now with her lips swollen and bruised and her hair a bit more wild from the tugging of his errant fingers, she looked positively sexy. Like a wanton goddess. He actually groaned out loud. It took all his energy not to just grab her again.

"You shouldn't…I'm not…" Hermione stammered, before the confident woman from the trial re-emerged and her face was taken over by an expression of outrage, "That wasn't fair, Draco! You can't just kiss me and expect everything to be all right. This is _not_ normal."

Draco froze at her words. A pang of rejection started to bloom within his chest like a curse wound, but he dampened it quickly. Surely he had not read her so wrong. He had been certain she felt something too.

"Why can't it be normal?" he asked a bit thickly, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. Hermione definitely appeared frustrated now, not just surprised.

"Because it's too complicated! You're in prison, and I'm helping you. It's just your gratitude making you-"

Draco scoffed a bit rudely, dismissing this with a wave of his hand. He stepped closer to her again until he was looming over her.

"It's _not_ gratitude. You think I haven't already considered that? It's not like I have anything better to do with my time stuck in that cell than go over every little detail of the situation. And trust me, while I _am_ thankful to you, Hermione, this is so much more."

She looked stunned and slightly frantic all at once. Her head shook back and forth in denial as she stared at him unblinkingly.

"No it's not. Oh god, this is just the debt, isn't it?" she murmured to herself. Draco frowned, not understanding what she was saying. Did she think that he was only kissing her because he had a debt to repay for her giving him so much help? It didn't make sense. He had saved her life. So they were even, right?

"Hermione, listen to me," he begged, taking her face in his hands once more and fixing his eyes on her. She couldn't look away. She needed to hear this, he thought. He swallowed heavily before he spoke, "I don't give a shit about Weasley or which one of us might owe some stupid debt. You mean everything to me. I've fallen-"

Hermione's body was seized with a jolt of fear and she lurched violently away from him.

"NO!" she yelled loudly, holding up her hands to create distance between them. Draco felt every nerve in his body quiver with disappointment at the look of revulsion on her face. She was horrified by his feelings, he realised. He stared at her desolately for a long time, his mind racing with confusion and disbelief. Had he really misinterpreted everything? But the look on her face was unmistakeable. She clearly wished that she were anywhere but here right now. It hit him with the force of a nasty hex. His stomach rolled over with an unpleasant jerk and his head spun. Hermione took a deep breath to continue and he braced himself with every fleck of courage he had for what might follow.

"There's too much going on between us. What if one of us gets hurt?"

Draco blinked hurriedly.

"I'm willing to take that risk, damnit!"

"Well I'm not! There's some really powerful magic involved here and it's just too dangerous!"

Draco was completely lost. His mind went numb as if he couldn't quite get it to tick into gear. He spluttered for a few moments in confusion as he tried to absorb her words.

 _Powerful magic?_

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked angrily, but she just shook her head, an obstinate expression on her lips.

"I mean it, Draco, this can't happen again. I'm sorry if it's upset you, but it has to be done."

He had never been an overly emotional person, but Draco suddenly felt a burning in his throat and eyes that felt almost like he was about to cry. He quickly clenched his jaw until he felt a muscle spasm and disciplined himself sternly to stay in control.

"So that's it?" he spat, clenching his hands into fists by his sides, "Without so much as an attempt to give me one good reason, you're just rejecting me."

Hermione flinched She held her hands up in a placating gesture.

"Please, Draco, you have to just trust me. I'm trying to keep you safe…"

He felt fury rise up inside him like fiendfyre, battling with his desperation and despair.

"Don't do this, Hermione," he pleaded, striding the couple of short steps between them and running his fingers across her silky hair. A fatalistic part of him wondered if this would be the last time he got to touch her, "Tell me what's making you so afraid. Is it me? Do I scare you?"

Hermione's beautiful brown eyes doubled in size. She shook her head vigorously from side to side.

"Merlin no!"

"Then what?"

"It's…so complicated! I'm scared of the consequences."

Draco's brows drew together. He simply couldn't puzzle out her reasoning.

"Do you have feelings for me?" he asked huskily, but Hermione just gaped at him with no response. He felt suddenly nervous and pushed on desperately, "Do you even _want_ me?"

Her face scrunched up painfully, as if she were suffering from a sudden migraine, but eventually she nodded.

"Yes."

Her voice was so soft he was worried he had misheard her. But then he absorbed her quiet answer and released the breath he had been holding. Knowing that she felt at least something for him was a balm to his frayed nerves, even if it was only physical desire. At least it was a start, although he craved so much more than that.

"Then what's wrong?" he pressed.

" _Everything_ else!" Hermione moaned in dread. She looked at him with acute trepidation, gnawing on her bottom lip again. He was the one who had been biting it so recently, he recalled, although now it felt like hours ago. He'd basically had a bucket of icy cold water dumped on him sine then. When she didn't answer he leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers, breathing deeply. He could feel every inch of her body trembling. He was slowly starting to realise that the woman he was so fiercely in love with had actually turned him down. She was the first girl to ever reject him, and the first one he actually wanted more than anything. It was rapidly eating him alive from the inside out. But Hermione had every reason to hate him, he realised. She still had horrific nightmares about when she was tortured at his house, by his family. _He_ had been there. He had been standing to one side uselessly while she writhed on the floor in pain. Their eyes had met several times that night. He had scarcely been able to breathe in those moments. So there was no doubt in his mind that her nightmares featured him somehow. He released a shaky breath of hopelessness. How could she ever accept intimacy or desire from him when he had been the source of so much pain in her life?

 _You'll be next, mudbloods._

Draco actually released a pitiful, high-pitched whine and gripped roughly onto her shoulders. He tilted his head back to stare at her.

"Is there nothing I can do to win you, Hermione?" he practically begged, hardly recognising himself, "Is there no way I can make myself more worthy for you? _Please_ …"

Hermione drew in a sharp breath, her expression contorting into one of absolute anguish. Draco cocked his head to the side as he tried to decipher what was going through her mind. He would do anything she asked. _Anything_. But then, for the third awful time this week, the opening of the heavy wooden door to their right interrupted them.

"Bloody hell," he groaned in frustration, while Hermione once again slipped from his grasp. The guard entered this time, giving him a suspicious look, as he no doubt noticed the disarray of both their hair and clothes.

"Time's up."

"Just give us one more minute," Draco demanded crossly, but the guard was unmoved by his words or tone. He shook his head stiffly.

"Time's up," he announced again in a lower, more threatening growl. Draco started to panic. He couldn't leave things like this. He felt his pulse thunder like a stampede, as he turned back to the curly haired witched looking embarrassed and trying to smooth down her wild curls.

"Hermione, don't do this. I need you. Promise you'll keep visiting…"

Her eyes went round and he treasured this last moment he got to drink her in and lose himself in the dark brown depths of her gaze. She nodded quickly.

"I promise. You won't be alone," she murmured quietly, obviously trying to give the illusion of privacy even though the guard was standing a mere metre away. She held up her hand as if to reach out to him, but then seemed to have an attack of anxiety and pulled it back. Draco's heart skipped.

"Don't give up on me," he ordered her in a low whisper, stepping closer, "I can be so much better than I was. Just give me a chance."

Hermione gaped for a moment, unable to form any articulate words. Then the guard was clearing his throat and ushering for her to leave. She kept looking back dejectedly until she was gone from the room. Then, not caring about the other man standing there watching him, Draco sunk to his knees on the cold stone floor. His hysterical mind, which had been filled with such a dark storm of tumultuous thoughts and feelings, seemed to shudder to a complete stop.

 _What the fuck just happened?_

….

 **Please don't hate me. I booked a first class ticket on the angst train today. And please embrace your confusion! We will hear Hermione's thoughts on what happened next chapter, which will hopefully shed some light on everything.**

 **Reviews are what keep me writing! And you are all such lovely reviewers!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

 **Sorry everyone. It's been a while since my previous chapter! But I went away for a few days on a houseboat with no electricity! Updating was impossible.**

 **There were some heartbroken reviews to the previous tumultuous chapter. There was one funny review in particular that made me laugh – the person claimed they would not want to read the story anymore because it was clearly just a legal drama instead of a romance; apparently I had ruined all hope of romance. I had to wonder whether this reviewer would read Pride and Prejudice but then stop after the rejected proposal halfway through because there was no hope of a romantic outcome! Lol.**

 **Anyway, strange reviews aside, I hope you enjoy some tiny resolution of angst this chapter. JKR is the owner and proprietor. We merely rent.**

 **...**

Sleep didn't come easily to Hermione that night. Wrapped up tightly in her blanket like it was a cocoon, she sat on the windowsill of her room at Number 12 Grimmauld Place with her flushed cheek pressed against the cool glass. She could hardly ignore the cliché image welcoming her from outside. Whether it was the gentle rain cascading against the window or the morose clouds parted just enough to allow the moon to peak through, the whole scene appeared out of some kind of old, silent film. She even noticed the way that the glass fogged up each time a rhythmic sigh would pass her lips. But all of these things reflected the dark mood she had slumped into since she left the courtroom earlier that day.

It was official. Hermione felt terrible.

She kept picturing Draco's expression when he had tried to expose his heart to her, only for her to lash out and deliver him a crushing blow. His face had been screwed up in a rictus of misery. It was burned into her memory just as deeply as Bellatrix had carved the jagged lines into her arms. He had always been a secretive, mistrustful person but it seemed the dam had cracked and broken open when it came to his interactions with her. And now she might have ruined him forever. She had been so sure that he was about to tell her that he was in love with her. Hermione closed her eyes for a brief moment in pain. Surely it wasn't possible. But he had seemed so sincere, so desperate for her approval and affection. And when he had kissed her…

Hermione swallowed and shifted uncomfortably on the window settee. She tightened her hold on the quilt enfolding her body like it would protect her from the sudden overwhelming feelings that rose within her. If she steadied her breathing and concentrated she could actually feel the tingle of his lips brushing against hers again and again. Although his lips had been dry and cracked, no doubt from the poor conditions in prison, there had still been an undeniable softness to them. Or maybe it had just been the passionate, exhilarating way he had pressed his mouth to hers with the urgent desire for _more._ Hermione felt giddy just thinking about it. She could still smell his natural scent mingled with the tinge of rich cologne that Narcissa had plied him with before court. She could feel the warmth of his body pressing hers into the wall. And she could taste him in her mouth, recalling the way his tongue had fleetingly brushed against hers just before she broke his heart.

Hermione groaned, clenching her hands into tight fists of helplessness. What was she supposed to do now? It wasn't like they could just go back to how they had been before this. Simple friendship was impossible now. And anything more than friendship…well, that was the real problem, wasn't it?

She could hardly deny that there was one horrible sensation that had eclipsed all others when he had kissed her. The burning of the life debt had slowly awoken inside her like the rumble of some great beast, hungry and impatient for something. At first it had felt like a gnawing in her gut, and she had just brushed it off as her growing lust when he first kissed her. But as his kisses and her longing for more escalated it had become much fiercer until she could no longer ignore it. It had been searing. It had frightened her. Her pulse had raced so fast she thought she was going to faint when Draco parted from her and stood there looking so vulnerable. And when he had tried to declare his feelings, the sudden jolt of panic had made her blind to any other concerns she might have otherwise had. She just knew she needed to stop him, to settle the magic raging within her.

With a little whine of disappointment, Hermione blinked back the stinging in her eyes as she let the regret wash over her properly. She had really hurt him. She had hurt herself too, since her mind and body had yearned desperately for him in that moment. But Flitwick had told her and Harry that the Life Debt might be altered by their budding relationship, and even he had not been entirely sure how erratically it might behave.

She wondered morbidly what might have happened if she had let it continue. Would it have worsened? It had seemed so aggressive; a rabid animal trying to escape its cage and strike. What if Draco had been hurt somehow? Could it do that? She shuddered with uneasiness. She wasn't sure any physical pain or curse could have hurt him more deeply than he clearly had been by her panicked words.

And if there had been _no_ debt? Hermione dug her fingers into the blanket and rocked back on the seat as she allowed the remembered sensation of his kisses to wash over her. She knew with a painful, regretful kind of certainty that she would have welcomed everything and more if the debt hadn't prevented it. He had intrigued her from the first moment she walked into that prison room. And it had only grown and transformed into so many different facets of attraction that it had taken an almighty force of magic to pull her away from him.

She hated that Lavender Brown of all people had been right. The blonde girl clearly wasn't as immature in matters of love as she used to be as a young adolescent.

The groaning protests of the ramshackle house warned Hermione that she was about to receive a visitor to her room. She sat up a little straighter and gave Harry a wistful smile as he creaked her bedroom door open an inch and peered in. His eyes were round and unsure, but he quickly realised her need for companionship and he sidled into the room.

"You're awake!" he murmured quietly in surprise, padding towards her. His hair was even messier than usual, having been disturbed from its disorganised sleeping position, and his pyjamas were a bit rumpled here and there. He perched himself on the settee facing her, taking a moment to absorb the dreary sight from the window.

"You were pretty magnificent today, Hermione," he said softly, his lips tugging into an affectionate smile as he propped his chin on his bony knees. She wondered why he felt the need to talk so quietly; it wasn't like there was anyone else in the house. But she couldn't deny that strange haunting feeling that sometimes came over these rooms, particularly during the night when it was so still and quiet. In response to his words she merely shrugged glumly and picked at a thread on her blanket.

"It was nothing," she muttered, "I could have done more. Jenkins still managed to reveal too much about my torture. The wizengamot will probably associate it all with Draco."

Harry shook his head with a pensive expression.

"I don't think so. You really rattled him. But that's not why you're so glum now, is it?"

Hermione's eyes shot up at his statement. He had said it with a fairly casual tone, but his gaze was sharp and discerning.

"What makes you say that?"

Her friend smiled wryly.

"You mean apart from the insomnia and the fact that you just played with your dinner earlier instead of eating it and now you look like you're about to burst into tears?"

Hermione shook her head, allowing a pained chuckle to be wrenched from her burning throat.

"I did something horrible today," she admitted hoarsely. Harry cocked his head to one side with a look of bewilderment.

"I find that hard to believe. What did you do?"

She frowned and stared at a single drop of rain on the window, following it with her eyes as it traced an indolent path downwards to the sill.

"I think I ruined things with Draco," she said hesitantly, not really knowing how articulate it. Harry sat up a little straighter.

"What do you mean? Did you make a mistake with one of his testimonials? I thought you and Narcissa had gone over them a hundred times..."

Hermione shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip. Of course Harry would immediately think she was talking about his trial. That should have been her primary concern as well, but it had all become so muddled in her mind.

"No, everything is going quite well with his trial, I think. As best as we can hope for given the circumstances anyway…"

"Then what is it?"

She took a nervous breath and rubbed her nose self-consciously. She was painfully aware that Harry would probably not feel comfortable discussing this, but he was the only one who really knew the whole story.

"Draco made his feelings for me quite clear today."

Harry blushed lightly, squirming on the seat.

"How?"

She smiled fondly at his discomfort.

"After court today, he saw me with Ron and I think he got jealous. So when we went into the side room…well…"

"He kissed you, didn't he?" Harry asked with a pout of disgust.

"Yes. And he seemed like he was about to tell me…uh…something romantic or passionate, but I stopped him. I told him that we couldn't get involved with each other."

Harry seemed a little stunned. His brows drew together in a puzzled grimace as he observed her quietly. She wondered if he could tell how guilty she felt.

"But, you _do_ like him, don't you? Why did you stop him?"

Hermione sighed and scratched her head.

"It's complicated, but basically I got scared."

"Why?"

"Because of the life debt."

Harry blinked a few times. His scruffy hair was subjected to a worried hand raking through it again and making it even worse.

"Were you worried that he would think you were just trying to repay the debt? Hermione, I don't think he would-"

She sighed heavily and shook her head, snuggling deeper into the blanket for protection.

"No, it's not that. It was _real._ The life debt actually physically made me stop. It started feeling really strange. Like a hot clenching in my gut."

Harry's cheeks went beet red and he avoided her gaze in favour of looking out the window as he asked his next question.

"Uh…er…are you sure you weren't just feeling…well…excited…?"

"Aroused?" Hermione prompted with a snort of laughter, shaking her head at his obvious discomfort, "No, Harry, I'm not _that_ inexperienced. I know what desire feels like. It wasn't a pleasant heat. It burned and crawled under my skin until I couldn't stand it."

Harry's nose wrinkled up in distaste.

"Why would it do that? Is that even possible?"

Hermione looked at her friend with a pained expression.

"I don't know! But I got frightened and I wasn't thinking clearly. I rejected him so cruelly right when he was trying to put his heart on the line. I didn't know what else to do! I panicked."

Harry considered her revelation with a thoughtful expression. He drummed his fingers on his knees before he spoke again.

"Maybe on some instinctual level the life debt is aware that a romance would get in the way of the necessary repayment being made…"

Hermione cocked her head to one side and considered his words.

"What do you mean?"

Harry's frown was so intense she could see deep lines marring his forehead. He seemed to grapple with his own train of thoughts before shrugging helplessly.

"I have no idea. Not even Flitwick seemed certain of the consequences of you becoming anything more than friends with Malfoy. It might get in the way of being able to fairly and openly repay him. I'm pretty sure Flitwick said something about _balance_. And if you fancy him then that will distort the balance. You would become more naturally inclined to help him, so it will take something even bigger to square off the debt."

She slumped back against the wall, defeated.

"So what do I do now?"

The scruffy haired boy opposite her grimaced and tilted his head to one side as he hummed and pondered his answer.

"Well you have three options!"

She raised one eyebrow quizzically.

"And they are?"

"First, you could tell him the truth. About the life debt and Ron and everything else in between. He might hate you or tell you to leave him the hell alone. Or he might throw himself at your feet and beg to give it a second go. Then you both work it out together."

Hermione smiled softly at Harry's enthusiasm. She wasn't sure she was brave enough to try this option, though. He was right when he suggested that Draco could hate her for what she had concealed from him.

"Okay, what else?" she asked. Harry nodded and continued,

"Well, the second option is to cut all communication and visitation with him until you can work this whole mess out yourself. Just focus on the trial. Maybe getting him acquitted will help with the life debt."

Hermione shook her head sharply at this idea. She was certain that she could never follow through with such a plan. Her desire to be around him and the strength of her regard and respect for him were too much. And Draco would be even more heartbroken that he was already if she abandoned him now.

"And option three?"

Harry pursed his lips and spread his hands out with a wry smile.

"Reassure him that you care. And hope that everything else just sort of works out."

Hermione rolled her eyes and let out a huff of air.

"Gee thanks, Harry. "

He laughed and leaned forwards a bit to steal some of her doona.

"Well, it depends on his reaction. How did you leave things with him today?"

"I promised him I would come to him and not leave him alone again." Harry looked confused until she noticed and explained, "He begged me to keep visiting, just before we got separated."

The Gryffindor boy smiled widely, with a triumphant gleam in his eye.

"Perfect! So go and talk to him! Explain _some_ things. Leave out certain details. And just let him know that you're not opposed to the possibility of a relationship with him sometime in the hypothetical future."

Hermione watched her friend in bemusement. She shook her head and gave him a soft smile.

"That easy, huh?" Harry just nodded eagerly in response and she sighed, "I can't believe I'm even discussing this with you. If our past selves could see us right now they'd die of shock."

Harry chuckled.

"Bloody hell. Childhood nemesis and pureblood snob Draco Malfoy fancies _my_ muggleborn best friend Hermione Granger! Maybe I really did die in the forbidden forest that night during the battle, and now I'm living in some alternate reality…"

Hermione chortled as well, and it only took a few moments of humorous eye contact before they both lost it and begin to tease each other mercilessly.

….

…..

Although Narcissa was surprised when her new friend requested the use of her extensive library at Malfoy Manor, she was certain that she did a good job of hiding it. Always the gracious host, she welcomed both Hermione and Harry into her home the very same day she received Hermione's owl, and allowed them the privacy to browse all the ancient and dark tomes within for many hours. But although they went in wearing matching grins of enthusiasm, they were clearly disheartened when they eventually left. Their smiles were polite but strained, and the Chosen One was patting his friend's back supportively with the promise of returning the following day to keep searching.

Narcissa sighed as she watched them leave from a tall window after having a brief, perfunctory meeting with them on their way out. Hermione had rallied her spirits and had been perfectly cordial, but she wasn't her usual energetic self. That was a worry. She had claimed that she was on her way now to visit Draco at Azkaban, but there had been a great deal of trepidation lacing her words. The Potter boy had been as encouraging as possible and had whispered some words of advice, which she couldn't hear, but Hermione was obviously dreading the visit.

Narcissa knew her son very well. From the moment she had met Hermione a few months ago now, she had known that the curly haired spitfire was exactly what Draco needed. And when they had all appeared for the first time together in court the previous week, she had been unable to avoid noticing the way Draco looked at her. He hardly looked elsewhere. His eyes were drawn to the girl so often and with such intensity of feeling that Narcissa was sure the whole room had been aware that he was in love with her. Normally she would have rejoiced in seeing his deep feelings for a young woman who was truly worthy for once. He had fancied far stupider and more sycophantic girls in his youth, and Hermione really did eclipse all of them in both intelligence and kindness to such a great extent. Narcissa was genuinely fond of her. But the girl was clearly troubled by something, and she was sure that it concerned Draco. And that made her feel frightened. Because Draco's sanity was standing on a knife's edge while trapped in that hellish prison, and she wasn't sure whether that kind of heartbreak would allow him to survive it. Despite some thinking him cold, Draco had always been a passionate, forceful person. So to be placed in a position of powerlessness in prison and to be in love with a girl he was unable to claim, as he normally would, could likely damage him severely.

She sighed and turned from the window to wander back through the halls of the manor, feeling acutely its emptiness. Her greatest wish had always been to welcome grandchildren there some day and hear the patter of tiny feet and the giggling and screaming of little ones playing. The stupid and frankly short-sighted Malfoy tradition of having only one heir was over. She wanted to make sure that the only tradition she followed now was ensuring that her son was happy.

With that in mind, Narcissa headed determinedly towards the library, which had just been vacated by her two Gryffindor visitors. Many people had applied to use the infamous library over the years, and so there was a very simple way of discovering what purpose their precious books were going towards. A permanent charm had been put in place to reveal the most recent tomes used, and a simple spell would reveal what it was that Hermione and Harry had been researching. While she felt a momentary twinge of guilt for prying, Narcissa continued on with a stubborn stride towards the room, focused only on the future happiness of her only son.

….

….

When Draco was hauled out of his cell and taken to the usual interview room, he admitted to himself that he was genuinely surprised. Despite her hurried assurances, he had felt certain that Hermione would ignore him again this week. It was late, and the waves battering against the rocky cliffs of Azkaban were thunderous. He felt a surge of emotion well up in him that was so fierce he rose to his feet and began to pace the room. Normally he would sit and wait for her, but he was much too unsettled today. His body was tense with nervous energy. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, both dreading and looking forward to seeing her.

His throat was dry and his eyes were swollen and stinging. It was likely she would see that he had cried last night. She must think him so pathetic.

Draco paused for a moment in his pacing when a shiver of anticipation ran through him. What had he done wrong? What could he do today to try and win her over? It was clear she was reluctant to receive his advances, but surely he hadn't imagined the attraction between them.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening slowly, and he felt himself stiffen in response. His shoulders clamped up and he froze where he stood. But from underneath a few strands of blonde hair drooped lazily over his eyes he watched voraciously as she entered.

It was with a cruel irony that he noticed every little detail about her today. Her beauty was something he regretted not seeing years ago. It was so subtle and natural. Her eyes were by far her most stunning feature. They were round and dark, framed by curled lashes so long they brushed lovingly against her cheeks. He adored the way the glinted with almost golden flecks when she was cross or outraged about something. But today her eyes conveyed something different; apprehension. She sidled into the room cautiously but did not take her usual seat when she saw that he himself was standing. Instead she just shuffled nervously from foot to foot for a few moments, gathering her thoughts.

Draco merely drank her in silently. He wasn't sure he would have much chance for being granted this intimacy in future, so he wanted to cherish every moment with her today. But all too soon curiosity and desperation made him move towards her. He could bear the silence no longer and began to speak in a croaky voice.

"Hermione, please allow me to apologise for my actions yesterday. I honestly did not mean to offend you…"

The curly haired Gryffindor stepped forwards, shaking her head hurriedly and raising her hands out in an open, peaceful gesture.

"No, please don't Draco! Please don't apologize. I'm the one who should be saying sorry. My behaviour towards you yesterday was so heartless, not to mention hasty."

Draco blinked in surprise. He was expecting her to be sullen and resentful about the liberties he had taken by kissing her so vigorously yesterday when she clearly had not reciprocated the strength of his feelings. But she seemed genuinely remorseful for how she had acted afterwards. He took a deep breath and watched her carefully.

"I shouldn't have kissed you like that," he admitted in a gruff, bitter tone. Although he regretted frightening her, he did still find it very hard indeed to regret actually kissing her at last. He had been fantasizing about it non-stop since almost the first moment she had started visiting him. But being rejected had undoubtedly stung his pride. In all his dreams she had been a more than willing participant. He had never expected such a harsh reality. It was difficult to admit that it had hurt his vanity more than a little on top of everything else.

"I actually…" Hermione blushed and chewed on her bottom lip for an endless moment, "I didn't exactly object, did I?" she said wryly, cocking her head to one side.

"Not at first," he muttered, remembering with painful clarity her eventual objection and how abruptly his feelings had been dismissed when he tried to declare them to her. Hermione winced at his reminder. Draco sighed and stepped backwards behind the table that sat as usual in the centre of the room. Without some kind of space between them he was far too tempted to just grab her again and forcefully remind her of the hot spike of desire that existed between them. He was sure from her flushed cheeks that she felt it too. But that clearly wasn't the only thing that mattered to her. So he needed to control himself. He rubbed his hand over his face; positive he looked an absolute mess. He had hardly slept the night before since he woke repeatedly from the most appalling nightmares.

"You said you were scared," Draco observed quietly, peering up at her from across the table, which they both stood awkwardly on either side of.

"Yes," she agreed in a whisper.

He took a deep breath, holding his hands down straight at his sides so she wouldn't see them trembling.

"Because of Weasley?" he asked through clenched teeth, mortified that he even had to ask the question, "You've chosen _him_ , haven't you?" He couldn't quite meet her eyes as he waited for her answer. To his surprise, Hermione stepped so close to the table that her fingers were resting gently on the edge. He saw them quivering.

" _No_. Ron and I aren't together."

Her voice was quite calm, but when his gaze darted up to meet hers, her eyes betrayed her unease.

"You told him about yesterday?" he asked with incredulous surprise, assuming that the idiot had left her out of anger or something equally stupid. Her brows drew together with a deep crease between them and a muscle twitched in her jaw as she frowned at his question.

"No. Draco, Ron and I have never been in a relationship and we never will be. We're just friends."

He felt his heart skip painfully. He had to physically stop himself from clutching at his chest.

" _What?_ " he stammered clumsily, uncaring what his expression looked like to her in that moment, "But the Daily Prophet article…"

Hermione snorted, crossing her arms in front of herself and looking a bit more like her usual self.

"Since when do you believe any gossip you read in that rag?"

"But I thought… I thought you and Weasley were supposed to be an item for ages. Even back in sixth year I used to get sick of hearing everyone wax on about the famous golden couple."

Hermione shrugged self-consciously and gave him a blushing smile.

"Nope. Just rumours I'm afraid. We have never and will never be a couple, despite the general expectation of our friends and family, and the press. I think it gives people hope, the idea of seeing two war heroes end up together. But we just don't feel that way about each other."

Draco's skin tingled right down to his fingertips. He barely heard the second half of her explanation. She was single. She wasn't with that ginger haired moron. He felt a sense of elation heave through him. For weeks he had been jealously imagining her with the freckled git. It had been consuming his nightmares. He stumbled a bit forwards, wincing at the groaning of the table as it was pushed aside loudly on the stone floor. He strode very close to her, until he was standing so near he could have touched her if he just twitched his fingers slightly.

"So…you didn't choose him?" he clarified in a soft voice, and Hermione responded with a tentative shake of her head, curls swaying softly at the movement. He raised his hand and stroked his fingers slowly across her jaw, delighting when she shivered. She certainly responded to his proximity and touch. She wasn't _un_ affected by him. His eyes flickered down to her lips, and then he frowned.

"So...why are you afraid then?"

She pursed her mouth and huffed out a breath of air.

"It's complicated."

"Yes you said that yesterday. But you didn't really explain."

Hermione looked lost for a few seconds, staring fixedly at the floor with her brows knitted together.

"I don't know how," she finally admitted. When he tapped her chin with his finger, she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. He was almost completely absorbed in her big brown irises until she raised her hand slowly to his face. He nearly flinched away in exquisite agony when at last she moved her fingers to brush a few strands of unruly hair off his forehead.

"Please try," he whispered huskily, unable to bear the uncertainty. The way she was acting made it seem as though she desired to be close to him, but she had still been so firm in her rejection of him yesterday. Hermione took a few moments to collect herself. She was standing so close to him he could breathe in the scent her shampoo. He wished stupidly for a brief moment that he could have smelled better for her, instead of his sweaty old prison robe. But that was a fickle thought and he quickly dismissed it.

"Draco, I want you to understand something. I _do_ care about you. I do want you. It hurt me deeply to have to stop you yesterday. I wanted you to keep going-" Her voice cracked and Draco couldn't help himself. He gripped her face in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers. She was trembling, but he stroked her skin soothingly until she calmed herself to continue. "I don't think I'm ready to tell you the whole story yet, but I'm hoping that you will trust me enough that it can wait..."

Draco frowned in confusion.

"I don't understand-"

"I know. And I'm sorry. But I'm not ready to share everything yet. Let's just deal with your trial first. Then we can work out…um…what we want."

He sighed and let his fingertips wander back into her hairline.

"If you need time to think about everything, then that's fine. I know I was horrible to you at school. And I was a Death Eater-"

Hermione chuckled dryly, shaking her head within his grip.

"Don't you dare. We've talked about this, Draco! You know that's not the problem."

He nodded, letting out a breath. He tilted her head up and stroked the soft skin around her ears and neck with the backs of his fingers.

"Just tell me this – are you alright?" he asked, worried that she was being so hesitant because something was dreadfully wrong. Hermione smiled softly and nodded.

"I'm fine. I just think we should just wait until after the trial. Then I'll tell you everything and we can think about the future."

Draco smirked, a wave of satisfaction surging within him.

"Future?"

She bit her lip but gave him a tentative smile. He couldn't help grinning in return. Last night he had been tortured by a feeling of helplessness and despair. He thought he had lost her completely, before he had even been given a chance. Draco had felt desolate knowing that he was not good enough for her. But now he felt a tingle of something else. There was hope. She was scared, but willing to wait if he could just be patient. She was probably right about the fact that they should wait until after the trial. If he were found guilty then an attachment between them would become impossible and this would all be moot.

But that didn't mean he was willing to just let her dictate all the rules and not give him a say. He seized the moment while they were close in order to tighten his grip in her hair and angle her head back so that she was looking up at him properly. He stroked her cheeks, temples, ears, neck and lips with his hands.

"Alright then, you infuriating little know-it-all. We can wait until after the trial. But you _will_ give me answers then…"

She nodded eagerly, silently conveying her promise. This time she didn't seem to be as keen to push him away. In fact, her eyes had started to glaze over a bit at his gentle attentions, since he continued to trace circles on the skin just behind her ears next to her hairline. Draco couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried. He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, shuddering at the taste of her pressed once more against his lips. He drew back quickly, not wanting to alarm her again. She had a stiff sort of pained look on her face with her eyes clenched shut. But when he stopped she allowed them to flutter open and she blinked innocently up at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat with a rush of determination.

"But before you leave today, you need to know how I feel-" he started. She tried to interrupt him but he held up a hand commandingly and she seemed to splutter and stop herself, "I mean it, Hermione. You might want to wait to make any decisions. That's fine. There's a lot going on. But you need to know how passionately I have fallen in love with you."

Her wide-eyed stare showed nothing but shock. She didn't look disgusted or even particularly pleased. Just stunned. He soldiered on stubbornly.

"You have burrowed your way so firmly into my mind that I cannot think of anything else but you. You fill my waking and sleeping thoughts. I would imagine myself under the influence of some kind of powerful love potion if it were at all possible to smuggle it in here somehow. Don't get me wrong, you're still maddening and so bloody bossy it enrages me. But Hermione no matter what you decide to do or what happens in this trial, I love you. I always will."

Hermione was silent for what seemed like hours. His pulse hammered as he waited for her to say something. But it seemed she was speechless. He occupied himself by winding her curls slowly around his fingers and breathing in every detail of her soft skin and beautiful eyes before she possibly rejected him all over again. Every second she remained quiet and anxious, the churning sensation in his gut sharpened until he thought he might be sick.

But then, as if he had just slipped into some kind of heady fantasy, her mouth was suddenly pressed against his and she was kissing him with unbridled hunger. It took Draco only a split second to return the kiss. He tugged her whole body up against his and devoured her lips like he were a man dying of thirst and she the oasis. He peppered her face and neck with little open mouthed kisses too, worshipping her skin and letting his eyes roll back up into his head at the sweet sensation the moment he realised he could taste her skin on his tongue. It was just as exquisite as he remembered.

They pulled apart to take a few gulping breaths, foreheads pressed together. But he couldn't help noticing the way Hermione in particular was gasping for air. He looked down and saw her clutching her chest with a pained grimace. Draco immediately stepped back to give her some room and steadied her shoulders with his hands. He felt his mind go numb with worry and his hands shook as they held her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, a jolt of fear spiking through him at her frown of discomfort. She rubbed her sternum distractedly as she blinked and peered up at him again. Her lips were still swollen from his kisses but her eyes were much clearer now.

"I'm fine," she said in a soothing tone, but he continued to watch her with worried eyes, "Really, I'm fine. I just got a bit out of breath."

He wasn't convinced that she was telling the truth, especially since her eyes couldn't quite meet his. But then she leaned up and pressed one last gentle, not quite chaste kiss on his bottom lip and he sighed with restrained pleasure.

It was with a twinge of disappointment that he watched her step back and behind the table. She took her seat with her usual serenity, but her body seemed a bit stiffer as she sat with much more straight, rigid posture than usual. Realising that, although his prison robe was fairly loose, it did little to conceal the growing hardness between his thighs, he sat abruptly opposite her. A blush stained his cheeks, but he tried to look as collected as she did. He noticed she hadn't actually said anything about his declaration earlier. She hadn't returned his sentiments, but she also hadn't scorned them. He thought that maybe she had tried to convey her feelings through the emotion she threw into her kiss. She had certainly made his toes curl from unexpected and unfamiliar longing just with a few simple caresses.

When her body had finally relaxed and she realised he was still staring at her with a piercing expression, Hermione suddenly smiled brightly and leant forwards onto her elbows.

"So, Harry and Theodore are going to be testifying tomorrow…"

He smiled too, sensing her desire to change the topic and willing to indulge her. Besides, he had received enough reassurance from her today to set a little hope fluttering his navel in a way that felt suspiciously like butterflies. This morning he had woken from disturbed, nightmare-ridden sleep thinking he was all alone and unworthy of the woman he loved, who he believed to be tied to another. Now she was free, and he thought that just maybe there was a chance that he would still win her. She was single and she clearly desired him. And damnit he was going to try everything in his power to be good enough for her one day.

….

 **Hope you enjoyed. Much more fluff this time than angst. More hurdles to cross, but we're working things out! Please review – you are all so lovely and encouraging when you write such friendly words of support. Cheers.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

 **Thank you for continuing to read. Hopefully we make some progress this chapter. The trial does not have much longer hopefully. Once again, I think this story may remain under 20 chapters, but I do run away with myself and my words a lot. As always, JKR is the owner and leaser.**

….

The courtroom fell to a hush as a new witness was called forth, this time by Mister Kennard. The atmosphere was tense with anticipation, more than it had ever been before, most likely owing to the presence of the famous Harry Potter who sat now in the very spotlight that he detested so much. Only one or two photographers and journalists had been permitted to remain in the room for his testimony due to the wild circus of press attention he had inspired. When Hermione had entered the ministry that morning by his side, the response had been chaotic. Cameras flashing and the screams of avid fans had followed them as they pushed their way through. The bustle of people yelling around them had reminded her starkly of the time they had _escaped_ from the ministry atrium, although this time the mood was one of excitement instead of outrage and intent to murder.

She watched her friend with a surge of pride as he sat with forced calmness in his seat waiting to be asked the first question. At least he would open with Kennard instead of Jenkins, which might ease away some of his dread. She knew he hated all this focus; the intensity of the gazes directed towards him was disturbing, and the general muttering that had followed his announcement had set her teeth on edge. Poor Harry. He was so brave as always, but she knew him well enough to spot the slight flush on his cheeks and firm clenching of his jaw. He was clearly uncomfortable.

Draco was just looking at him with a puzzled sort of expression, no doubt unsettled and amused by the strange turn of events that brought the two childhood nemeses onto the same side. His grey eyes flickered towards her and Hermione gave him a soft, encouraging smile. She noticed the way his eyes warmed when he saw it. He sat a little straighter in his seat and sent a cheeky wink her way. Hermione rubbed her chest nervously, still feeling the lingering ache of the life debt from the day before. The same sensation had crawled over her when she kissed him at the prison, although this time she had known what was happening and hadn't panicked, fortunately. When she parted from him that evening they were perfectly affectionate and cordial towards each other. He had even pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek; a promise of his enduring feelings and wishes.

Kennard cleared his throat, turned to address Harry and the courtroom went eerily still.

"Mr Potter, thank you for agreeing to speak with us today. We are honoured to have you with us and indebted to your heroic deeds."

Harry just nodded, squirming a bit in his seat. The older man smiled fondly at his obvious discomfort and quickly continued.

"Is it correct that you were present at the death of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore?"

He nodded again, but twitched forwards in realisation when Kennard waved a hand with a casual prompt.

"Oh, er…yes. Yes I was present."

"And where exactly were you at this time? What led to you being there during all this?"

Harry took a deep breath and she felt a twinge of pity for him. He had been distraught over Dumbledore's death for a long time, and dredging it all back up now would undoubtedly be difficult for him.

"I had arrived with the headmaster on the Astronomy tower by broomstick. He told me to get under my invisibility cloak and stand to one side. When Malfoy arrived to disarm him, his last spell was to petrify me so I couldn't intervene. I now understand from viewing…er… certain memories that this had all been designed so that Snape could kill him. They had planned it together."

There was a wave of murmuring that passed over the court. Hermione watched them with curiosity as they whispered about the dead potions master. Most people knew the gist of Severus Snape's role in the war thanks to Harry's comments to Voldemort during the final battle, but a lot still remained a mystery.

"And what happened after Draco disarmed the headmaster? Did he attempt to kill him."

"No! They…er…they just talked for a little while."

Kennard nodded encouragingly.

"What did they speak of?"

He frowned as he recalled the memory of that night. Hermione knew it had stuck vividly with him from the inexhaustible amount of times he replayed it in his head that year on the run. Harry had always felt so guilty that he couldn't have done more to prevent his mentor from being killed, and it wasn't until much later when he viewed Snape's memories that a lot of that guilt was absolved.

"Professor Dumbledore was offering to help him. He suggested that the Order could try and hide them from Voldemort. But Malfoy refused."

Some angry muttering rose in the crowd of ministry officials and a couple of fingers were pointed at Draco accusingly. Harry sat up a little straighter when he realised what they were thinking and how they responded to the implication behind Draco refusing any help.

"Just to be clear…er…I don't think that Dumbledore really expected him to accept. And the reasons Malfoy gave were pretty strong."

Kennard smiled at him for his quick save, giving him a supportive nod.

"And what were those reasons?"

"Well he said he was terrified that he or his parents would be murdered by Voldemort. He said that the Order wouldn't be able to protect him, which is actually true…. The Order would not have been able to kept them safe."

Kennard looked a little confused and cocked his head to one side.

"And why is that?"

Harry shrugged, looking more severe than she had seen in a long time.

"Well they couldn't keep my parents safe. Voldemort still found them."

A few sighs were heard from some of the female officials, awash with sympathy for their beloved saviour. Hermione felt her throat clench.

"Of course," Kennard agreed with a compassionate tone, "And can you describe Draco's state of mind at this time? Did he seem nervous, excited, scared…?"

Jenkins rose to his feet abruptly.

"Excuse me minister, but I don't think the witness is qualified to testify about what Mr Malfoy was _thinking,_ unless he is a mind reader. And legilimency would be impossible if petrified."

Kingsley chuckled, but it sounded odd because his expression remained so solemn.

"This is Harry Potter, Wallace, the Chosen One. The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. I think we can trust his account and determine its integrity for ourselves." Hermione smiled with amusement and noticed the way Kingsley's eyes darted over to her and his lip twitched. She appreciated his support. "You may answer, Harry," Kingsley prompted, and the messy-haired boy wiped his palms on his pants before responding.

"Ok, well…er…he was really jittery and scared. Terrified, actually. I thought he had completely lost his mind. And he was crying-"

Harry grimaced and sent an apologetic look towards Draco, clearly feeling guilty that he had to reveal this weakness. But the blond boy merely lifted his chin higher and adopted a haughty expression. Hermione shook her head, recognising his false pride for what it was now; a defence mechanism he used to conceal his insecurities.

"Did Draco harm the headmaster in any way before the Death Eaters arrived?"

Harry shook his head slowly.

"No. Actually…I think he even _lowered_ his wand."

A lot of chatter occurred at this statement, but it was cut off abruptly by Kennard's next question. Every member of the court was held in suspense.

"And when the Death Eaters arrived?"

"They were all really excited, and Bellatrix tried to goad Malfoy into doing it…"

"Doing what?"

"Killing Professor Dumbledore. He was supposed to, that was the task Voldemort had given him. She kept insisting that he had to do it, taunting him. But he would not lift his wand. She yelled at him and he still wouldn't do it. Then Snape arrived and he was pushed to the side."

Kennard nodded with satisfaction, giving Harry a warm smile.

"Thank you for your honesty, Mr Potter."

The older man sat back down in his place, leaving the court on edge waiting for Jenkins to take over questioning. Harry looked distinctly more nervous now. Hermione caught Narcissa's eye and they both smiled softly, realising how valuable Harry's testimony would be. The silence was complete in the room as Jenkins cleared his throat to begin.

"On the night of your capture by snatchers, when you were taken to Malfoy Manor, when did you first encounter Mr Malfoy?"

Harry considered the question for a moment, recalling the details of that night, though they were probably hazy to him owing to his later grief over Dobby.

"He was summoned by his father to the drawing room. He was asked to identify us. But he didn't! He said he didn't know who we were."

Some muttering spread out again, this time more curious and positive than before. Jenkins frowned.

"Yes, but then you were escorted to the dungeons, correct?"

"Yes…" Harry said slowly, not sure where this was going.

"Were you aware of what was going on upstairs while you were imprisoned there?"

Harry visibly grit his teeth and nodded curtly.

"Sort of. I could hear things."

He was obviously reluctant to say too much, and Hermione felt her heart ache for him. But Jenkins persisted.

" _What_ things exactly?"

Harry swallowed and clenched his hands around the arms of the chair he was sitting in.

"I heard Hermione. She was screaming and pleading with Bellatrix to stop."

Jenkins raised one eyebrow quizzically.

"How do you know it was Bellatrix?"

Harry looked confused for a moment and shrugged.

"I could hear her laughing."

The slimy man shuffled his papers around with a grin.

"So you didn't actually see Bellatrix torturing your friend?"

Harry shook his head with a scowl.

"No."

"So it could have been anyone casting those spells, then…"

The younger man sat forwards, his brows furrowed darkly.

"That's simplifying it a bit, don't you think? I didn't need to _see_ it to know what was happening. Bellatrix was torturing her."

Jenkins just chuckled and continued quite calmly.

"When you escaped the dungeon and returned to the drawing room, what was Mr Malfoy doing?"

"He was…er…standing to one side while Bellatrix held Hermione with a knife to her throat."

The vulture-like man nodded, peering down with his beady eyes.

"And at this time you acquired his wand?"

"Yes."

Jenkins tutted and drummed his fingers against the wooden rail in front of him.

"Miss Granger claims that he willingly gave up his wand, surrendering his ownership to you. I personally find this hard to believe. Is this how you would describe it?"

Harry nodded slowly, choosing his words carefully when he responded.

"Well I'm sorry to say I don't really understand the magic behind it. Hermione's always been the brains of our little group-" the room tittered with amusement and a few fond looks were shot her way, "-but I can tell you that Draco didn't put up a fight. He looked sort of stunned and er…I just grabbed it and left him there."

Jenkins wasn't looking very happy as he stared down at his notes. Hermione shared a satisfied glance with Harry. The man would have a difficult time piercing holes in their version of events.

"But just to clarify, Mister Malfoy did not make any attempt to help your friend while she was being tortured? And he did not aid in your escape? He just left her to die…"

Harry smirked, his eyes alighting like a child on Christmas day. He exchanged a quick glance with Hermione again and she nodded in approval of the idea they had both shared in that moment.

"No he didn't save her. Not _that_ time anyway."

Jenkins nodded curtly, his eyes widening. When he didn't speak, Kingsley leaned forwards with a curious gaze, asking directly,

"Are you implying that he did on some other occasion?"

Harry nodded eagerly.

"Yes! During the battle at Hogwarts, we were trapped in the blaze of some fiendfyre. When Hermione tripped and was injured, Ron and I lost her in the confusion, but Malfoy pulled her up and out of it. He even got her onto a broom. He saved her life."

Hermione grinned widely at the reaction of the courtroom. Mr Kennard was nodding approvingly at Harry, who looked pretty pleased with himself. The general atmosphere was one of surprise and admiration for the blond Slytherin boy. A lot of gazes had softened towards him at this one piece of information. Harry seized the opportunity while Jenkins had lost his control of the proceedings, to continue in a determined voice. And no one dared to stop Harry Potter from speaking his mind once he got started.

"I think Malfoy was just as much a victim of this war as we were. He was trapped and completely unwilling. But many of his actions show that despite this, he still tried to help. I don't like that he's being punished just because he's Lucius Malfoy's son."

Jenkins eventually worked up the courage to clear his throat.

"Minister, I really must protest…"

Kingsley nodded and looked down at Harry with a stern expression. But there was no denying the twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, Mister Potter. We thank you for your involvement. But I think Jenkins would most certainly agree that we have heard all we need to from you."

Harry clearly couldn't prevent the cheeky smirk from appearing on his face as he jumped down from his seat. There were some muffled giggles around the courtroom. He was a clear favourite with them. Hermione sighed a deep breath of relief. His influence as a treasured hero may just tip the case over the edge in the direction they needed. Kingsley called for a short adjournment before they continued, but after much tedious discussion and objections, it was decided that they would delay until tomorrow. She sighed in relief, keen to return to Malfoy Manor and continue combing through the books there in their search for more information on life debts.

Harry and Hermione waited patiently as Draco had a quiet word with his mother. She patted his cheek and gave him a small embrace, promising to see him soon. Before they took Draco back to the prison, however, Hermione signalled to the guard to give them a moment in the side room. She led the way and heard the door close behind her as Draco crossed the threshold moments after her. Before she could even draw breath to speak to him, she felt his hands on her shoulders. Hermione was hurriedly turned around to meet his eye. She blinked for a few moments while noticing the way that his own eyes flickered down to stare at her lips. Then he was kissing her. It wasn't like their previous kisses. His mouth was gentle and pressed softly against her, coaxing her lips apart and sucking lazily on her bottom lip as his fingers wound their way slowly into her hair.

Hermione returned the kiss quite willingly for a while, paying close attention to the reactions of her body. After a short time, she turned her head slightly to the side and placed her hands on his chest to get some space between them. Draco was not so easily deterred. He moved his lips to trail across her jaw and down her neck. Hermione couldn't help tilting her head back and accepting the exquisite sensations of his lips on her skin for as long as possible, before she once again registered the tingling of magic deep inside her. When she felt Draco's tongue dart out and taste the skin near her collarbone and heard the way a moan rumbled deep in his throat, she knew it was time to stop.

She stepped back hastily, taking gulping breaths to regain her equilibrium. Draco stared at her intently, his eyes ablaze with yearning. It took a lot of effort, but she managed to eventually crack a smile.

"I thought we were going to wait until after the trial," she teased, although her voice was hoarse. Draco groaned and ran his hands up and down her arms, undoubtedly feeling her shiver.

"I find I can't help myself," he responded with a self-deprecating smirk.

Hermione shook her head and took another step backwards so that she was no longer within touching distance.

"Well, maybe you should try harder," although her words were quite severe, her tone remained fairly light and mocking. Draco smiled and nodded, adopting a facade of seriousness.

"Of course. My apologies," he replied with a grimace, firmly clasping his hands behind his back, "Are you well?"

The question was asked in a polite tone, but she could see his concern shining from his eyes. He must have observed how she struggled to breathe a moment earlier when she was in his arms.

"Yes, I'm well enough," she said in an equally polite tone, smirking at him and twisting her fingers together, "I think Harry was fabulous!"

Draco smiled at her enthusiasm for her friend, and Hermione noticed that he looked reluctantly grateful for the support of the young hero.

"He certainly got their attention," he agreed, "And now I have to tackle the unpleasant task of figuring out a way to thank him. I'm afraid my pride will suffer terribly."

Hermione laughed at the disgusted expression on his face.

"He'll be so glad to know that he's made you uncomfortable!"

"I'm sure he will."

After glancing down at her watch briefly, Hermione gave a short sigh.

"You have to go soon."

"I know. We're always getting interrupted." As if his words had been a summons, the door opened abruptly to reveal his usual guard watching them with a stern countenance. Draco chuckled and spread his hands comically, "See?"

Hermione giggled too. Feeling bold all of a sudden, she stepped forwards right in front of the guard with a beaming smile on her face. Draco quickly picked up on her intention and his grin was even brighter than her own. They embraced swiftly, but the brevity of the contact did not in any way offset the intimacy of their hold on each other. She enjoyed the way he pulled her in close to his chest and encircled her in his arms. She felt a flutter of nervous hope in her stomach that was not brought on by the life debt this time. And as she pulled away she revelled in the softness of his caress as he placed a tender kiss on her cheek.

"Mr Malfoy-" the guard began in a low, disgruntled voice at being made to wait.

"Yes, yes! I know."

Draco released her reluctantly and allowed the guard to accompany him out the opposite door where he would floo back to the prison. They gave each other one last fleeting look of camaraderie before the door closed and she was alone in the room.

….

….

Harry and Hermione had spent another couple of hours that afternoon after the trial devouring the books in Malfoy library, trying to discover any information they could about Life Debts. Disappointingly they continued to only find vague references to it, and nothing concrete. But Hermione was determined to persevere and figure this out. Any future she might have with Draco depended on her unravelling herself from this debt.

"So it turns out life debts are even more obscure than horcruxes! I never thought we'd end up researching something _more_ cryptic than detached pieces of somebody's soul…"

Hermione cocked her head to one side at Harry's words. He had his messy hair clenched up in frustrated hands as he stared blearily down at a thick text on blood charms. She began to chuckle at his impatience, aware that she was much more suited to this kind of gruelling study than he was. But when she considered his little joke more closely, she actually frowned.

"Somebody's soul…"

He lifted his head from the book and raised one eyebrow at her in query.

"Hmm?"

She shook her head and leaned back in her seat, feeling a few faint pops in her spine from remaining so stiff for too long.

"Maybe it has something to do with souls," she said with a sigh, pondering this bizarre new thought in her mind as she spoke slowly, "If killing a person tears ones soul apart, then how does _saving_ a life affect it? I wonder if we've been going down the wrong path and we should start looking more into magical theories about the soul and its properties."

Harry slammed the book closed that he had been reading.

"Alright," he agreed with a haggard grimace, pushing the book further away from himself, "I'm sick of reading about blood charms anyway. It's gross."

Hermione chuckled and stood to wander round the room again, inspecting titles and browsing through the meticulously ordered sections laid out before her. Harry waited tiredly as she selected one or two books, but before she could pass them over, a voice interrupted her musing.

"If you are interested in souls, you should try _Gaston's History of the Spirit and Beyond…"_

Hermione spun around when she heard Narcissa speak, staring in surprise at the older woman as she slowly made her way into the library to stand calmly before them.

"Narcissa," she greeted with what was probably an excessively enthusiastic and polite smile. She was just a bit shocked at the other woman's entrance. Although she shouldn't have been, since it was _her_ house.

"I think you'll find that book to be most useful," the woman continued in a serene but firm voice, staring the two Gryffindors down. Hermione gaped at her and exchanged a worried glance with Harry.

"In what way will it be useful?" she asked hesitantly, carefully trying to determine what the blonde knew about their research.

"You are far too intelligent to play these games with me, Hermione," the woman warned in a low voice and she blanched. Her heart skipped as she contemplated the expressionless mask on the face of the older lady.

"How much do you know?" she asked eventually, feeling that directness was clearly the better option. Narcissa observed her calmly.

"When we spoke many weeks ago about how Draco saved your life, I imagined that perhaps you felt you owed him something. But you reassured me that your gratitude and sense of responsibility were not the only reasons for trying to help him. I believed you. Yet I had no idea until just yesterday that there were even greater forces compelling you to reach out to him."

Hermione winced, understanding her meaning.

"You checked which books we were reading, didn't you?"

Narcissa nodded, causing Harry to splutter a bit in outrage.

"That was private," he argued weakly, but fell quickly silent under Narcissa's brief, withering gaze.

"My only concern is the well being and happiness of my son," she retorted, but her eyes were fixed on Hermione instead of the other boy, "And if he learns that your goal here has merely been to absolve a life debt, it will destroy him."

Hermione's eyes widened and she felt her knees weaken. Discomfited by the trembling in her legs she immediately perched herself against the nearest side table.

"Narcisssa, I can explain-"

"I should hope so."

She rubbed her hand over her face, her fingers feeling bony and weak all of a sudden. An aching began behind her temple but she dismissed it as she stared mournfully at the blonde woman standing before with her arms crossed imperiously.

"It is true, I am bound to a life debt with your son," she admitted quietly, her voice lacking her usual confidence, "And until recently both Harry and myself thought that it would go away if I continued helping Draco. But I _did not_ lie to you that day. I meant it. Even if there were no debt or magic at all, I would still be standing by his side and fighting for justice. The debt has no bearing on my belief in his innocence and my determination to support him."

Narcissa showed no obvious signs of relief upon hearing these words, but Hermione had noticed many similarities between both mother and son lately, and was able to perceive the slightest relaxing of the tenseness in her shoulders.

"What do you mean _until recently?_ " The older woman asked in confusion. Hermione shifted uncomfortably and raked a hand through her unruly curls.

"The debt is becoming erratic, and possibly dangerous," she confessed in such a soft voice that she wasn't sure Narcissa would hear her. But the older woman did hear it, and immediately allowed a twitch of anxiety to cross her aristocratic features.

"Are you sure?

Hermione fretted for a few painful moments, unsure how to reveal her feelings for Draco without causing horrible embarrassment to everyone in the room. Harry noticed her distress and shifted on the couch to make room.

"Why don't you both sit down for this," he suggested gently, staring at his friend with concern, "It might make it easier…"

Narcissa glanced at the boy and nodded. She even waved her wand elegantly and moments later a tea service appeared before them on the table with the precision and intricacy that only a house elf could provide. The two ladies sat down and Hermione took a deep breath to brace herself. She explained in very inadequate, mortified detail the shift in her interactions with Draco, and their conversation with Professor Flitwick about the changeability of life debts. Narcissa expressed her surprise at the fact that becoming closer might have jeopardised Hermione's ability to repay him.

"But you also said a moment ago that it was _dangerous…_ " the Malfoy woman prompted with a worried frown. The tea sat untouched between them, as they were much too engrossed in their discussion to eat or drink. Hermione shuddered uncomfortably at the question, far too aware that she was speaking to Draco's _mother_ of all people.

"A few days ago, Draco…um…well, he sort of kissed me," she said in a humiliated whisper, wishing the couch could open up and swallow her whole. Narcissa didn't look worried though; in fact, she actually smiled with a dazzling glimpse of something that resembled victory, "You're not mad?" Hermione checked in a tentative voice. The blonde woman patted her hand reassuringly.

"Of course not. Why would I be?"

She coughed and exchanged a look with Harry.

"I'm not pureblood. And my parents…"

Narcissa held up a hand abruptly.

"Please stop, Hermione. Surely we do not need to speak of old prejudices when it is so clear how I value your company and consider you a friend now. Draco has exceptional taste."

Hermione flushed darkly, chewing intently on her bottom lip and unable to meet anyone's gaze. She heard Harry chuckle but didn't dare look at him for fear of seeing how amused he was with her embarrassment.

"I appreciate that, Narcissa. And I also consider you a friend," although she stumbled over the returned compliment, she tried to sound as sincere as possible. Her eyes darted up long enough to see the woman smile and wave for her to continue, so she cleared her throat and did so.

"Well, when he…kissed me…I felt a tremendous reaction from the life debt that at first was merely strange, but quickly became painful. Really painful. I actually had to stop him and I lashed out because I felt so horrified by it."

Narcissa stared at her for a long moment before taking a deep breath and nodding.

"Yes, that would explain it. He was inexplicably distraught earlier this week at the trial. I thought something had happened at Azkaban before he arrived. I was sure he'd been crying."

Hermione's gut twisted guiltily, and she had to force herself to remember his later smiles and hugs to stop herself from banging her head against the table in shame.

"I felt terrible for how I acted. The next time I saw him I reassured him that I cared and that I believed there might be some kind of future for us. But I simply couldn't tell him about the life debt. I'm sure he would hate me if he knew. But it still hurts when…um…when we touch. So Harry and I decided we would try to research and figure it out, so by the time he is released…well…then it won't hurt me anymore."

Narcissa frowned but eventually nodded in agreement.

"As much as I dislike the idea of keeping things from my son, it is probably best that he doesn't know about this. He would undoubtedly jump to conclusions. He has never trusted people easily."

"I was worried he would be angry and think that I was just fulfilling a duty."

Narcissa nodded.

"I agree."

"Thank you," Hermione sighed in relief, since she hadn't been sure whether Narcissa would reveal everything to Draco herself. She had been dreading it, in fact. But the blonde woman had been quite serious when she spoke of her need to protect her son's happiness. And she obviously agreed with Hermione's fear that he would question her motives and allow it to feed his insecurities. It was better if he didn't know anything until they could work out a solution.

While they had been engaged in their conversation, Harry had browsed the room until he found the book that Narcissa had spoke of when she entered. He held it up for the two women to see.

"Is this the book you mentioned?" he asked with a grin. Narcissa nodded and beckoned him over. She took the book from him and started to flit through the pages with elegant fingers gliding over the words and eyes darting back and forth. Hermione took a peek at the front cover, which had a corny illustration of a woman desperately clinging to her spirit as it tried to escape her body. She thought it looked a bit like a muggle romance novel. It was overly dramatic and in the wizard print the paint kept shifting and showing the woman screaming in agony as it left her.

"This book is a bit fanciful, but it does contain some first-hand accounts of people who have experienced soul magic. There just might be a section on _... yes, here!_ "

Narcissa opened the book up completely with a triumphant smile and pointed to a page in front of her. There was a brief passage of writing on the page accompanied by a watercolour illustration. The image depicted was rather grim, with mostly grey paints. A man and woman were grasping desperately for each other while black mist enshrouded them and prevented them from touching. Hermione cocked her head to the side with curiosity and began to read as the others did the same.

 ** _Josephine and Archibald: A Life Debt_**

 _Sir Wilhelm Archibald of Sussex, a wizard in his forties living on a large estate in the countryside during the 16_ _th_ _Century, was betrothed to a much younger lady by the name of Josephine Parkes. The two had their marriage arranged for them by powers looking to combine their wealth. Consequently their hatred for each other was infamous. Their marriage was never consummated and they lived in separate wings of their house with little interaction. When they did meet, their hostility was boundless._

 _After a dangerous storm threatened to destroy the Lord's wing of their manor, Josephine's bravery and quick spell work saved her husband from certain death as the walls crumbled around him as he slept. A life-debt was forged instantly. During his recovery from injuries sustained, the two began to form an intimate connection as she nursed him back to his previous state of well-being. Their relationship grew and deepened as their affection increased. Inexplicably, this intimacy later coincided with a sudden and shocking descent in Archibald's health. Below is an extract from his diary:_

 ** _"I have struggled in vain to overcome the oppression of spirit which plagues me. It is impossible to deter or impede the tempests of agony, which do confront me upon the frequent expressions of regard for my dearest wife. For dear she is now to me. I fear the heightened awareness of my torment by others, the mad anticipation I endure each day, and the crippling consequences, which merely lengthen and intensify in severity upon each occurrence. It is my unhappy belief that the debt drains my life slowly in the stead of an adequate repayment to my beloved. I will approach my study of it cautiously, toiling to conceal the dreadful truth from darling Josephine. "_**

 _Sir Archibald passed away several weeks after the date of this entry. He was grievously ill towards the end, although a rudimentary detection charm used at the time of his death was insufficient in ascertaining the cause. It was noted that a cause of death did not exist other than his apparent lifelessness._

There the passage ended. A stiff, unpleasant silence descended on the library as all three occupants dwelled on what they had discovered with matching dismal expressions. Narcissa smoothed her hand over the page, her finger tracing the illustration. She eventually cleared her throat and snapped the book closed.

"I had not recalled the actual content of the book. I did not realise…" the blonde woman's voice broke a little and she fell silent. Harry moved from where he had been leaning and he paced back and forth across the rug. Hermione felt numb and did not want to see their horrified reactions, but was unable to avoid them.

"Well maybe he died of something else. There was no link found between the debt and his…er…death," Harry stammered. Hermione took in a deep breath.

"It's just a story," she reminded them both firmly, her jaw clenched in determination, "It's a fanciful tale, and even if it were true it happened hundreds of years ago!"

Narcissa smiled encouragingly, but didn't appear convinced.

"Of course, dear," she said with a gentle pat on her hand. Harry, on the other hand, gave her a scowl.

"Yeah, but what if it _is_ true?" he grumbled, his stare dark as he started pacing again, "Your life could actually be at risk here."

Hermione stood from where she had been sitting on the couch next to Narcissa. She gave Harry a cross look and placed her hands on her hips.

"Well then we'd better make sure we figure out a way to break it!" she declared fiercely. Harry snorted and gave her an exasperated look.

"Or just _don't_ get involved with Draco. You could finish this before either of you gets too attached! You only recently started to fancy each other. If it actually puts your life in danger surely he will understand and not push you into something."

Hermione sighed and crossed over to him. She took him by the shoulders and gave him a sharp, piercing stare.

"It's too late Harry. Draco told me he's in love with me. And I…well…I'm not entirely sure how I feel. But I certainly _could_ fall for him."

Harry groaned in exasperation.

"Of course he did. Spoilt git. Argh!" He walked away from her and folded his arms in front of his chest, looking sullen. He shot a guilty look towards Narcissa for such harsh words about her son. But she just shrugged softly in acceptance. He took a deep breath and continued, "Well you know how much I hate research, but if you'll please allow us Mrs Malfoy, I'm going to read every damn book in this library until I find a solution!"

Hermione gave him a shaky smile.

"You're a good friend," she told him with sincere admiration and fondness. Narcissa nodded in agreement and gestured to the ceiling high books towering around them.

"Of course you may use the library. In fact, I will get the house elves to transport the books from our summer homes in France and Italy and the townhouse in London."

Harry rolled his eyes at the revelation of the Malfoy's wealth, but he joined Hermione in smiling in gratitude.

"Thank you Narcissa," she murmured.

"I shall give the instruction now," the blonde woman declared, and she called out for one of her elves, who appeared instantly by her side wearing a clean pressed uniform and a beaming smile.

"Berry, I need you to organise something for me. If you can-" Narcissa broke off as she observed the elf carefully, "Berry! What happened to your hands?"

Hermione watched in sympathy and concern as the elf looked down nervously at her hands. She twisted her bony, withered fingers together, and Hermione noticed that they were covered in bandages.

"You didn't punish yourself, did you?" Narcissa pressed, "You know I have forbidden it…"

The elf shifted from foot to foot. She blinked and stared up at her mistress with wide, milky eyes.

"No, Mistress," she squeaked dolefully, "Berry was just opening up letters this morning as she was asked. And something sticky and burning came out of one."

Narcissa sighed sadly, lowering herself to look at the elf compassionately.

"Berry, don't open any more letters. Take the rest of the day off and tend to your injuries. You may come and speak to me tomorrow about this task. That's an order," Narcissa's voice was stern, but the house elf drank up every word with a look of relief and awe. Then in an instant she disappeared with a crack and the older woman was left frowning at the rug where the elf had stood a moment before.

"Are you receiving hate mail?" Hermione asked quietly. She was all too aware of the dangerous substances that could be concealed in letters, especially after her disastrous experience in fourth year.

Narcissa nodded solemnly, turning back to face her guests.

"I receive the occasional letter about Draco and my late husband. But lately some of them have been a little more worrying. There have been death threats…"

Hermione gasped and slapped her hand to her mouth. Harry frowned and asked,

"Have you reported this to the aurors?"

Narcissa nodded.

"I have. But they suspect that the threats are coming from other former Death Eaters who know of my and Draco's betrayal of the Dark Lord towards the end. There is little they can do aside from their current search for those at large. I'm afraid we are not exactly their highest priority at the moment."

Harry's scowl intensified and he approached Narcissa.

"Although I'm just in the training program, my opinion does still have some influence. I could ask them to conduct a proper investigation…"

Narcissa smiled and grasped his hand gently.

"I thank you, but please don't trouble yourself. I am very secure here at the manor now, and Draco cannot be harmed where he is, fortunately."

"Nonetheless, Mrs Malfoy, I would like to mention it to my superiors. I don't want you to be in any danger."

Hermione and Harry shared a long look with each other, both very unsettled by her revelation. Narcissa dismissed their concern with a regal wave of her hand.

"Please don't burden yourselves with this. We need to give all our focus to discovering what can be done about this life debt. That is our goal."

Harry nodded in understanding. He turned back to the overwhelming catalogue of tomes surrounding them. Hermione stared worryingly at the other woman for another moment, a feeling of dread rising up within her at the dismissal of such a horrible admission. But there was nothing she could do today. Maybe she should discuss it with Draco when she visited him next. He would surely not approve of the danger his mother was facing. And she would definitely encourage Harry to take it up with the Auror department. He was right; they did tend to listen to him when it came to matters of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. They considered him an authority on the subject. She sighed and wandered over to the nearest bookshelf, her mind replaying the tragic story of Sir Archibald. Was that going to be her fate too? The rational corner of her mind insisted that not only was the story a mere fairy-tale, but also Harry may be right. She should cut off her ties with him now before it caused more harm. But she knew that she was already in too deep. Whether the life debt hurt her or not, she realised that she was determined to find out her feelings for Draco. She just hoped that they could find an answer before it was too late.

….

 **Well there you go. Some added drama and suspense. I hope you are all waiting with much anxiety. Please leave reviews to let me know your hopes and dreams. You never know, I may fulfil them!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

 **Another chapter ready. A new introduction and some plot developments.**

 **I hope you all enjoy and leave kind reviews. As always, JKR owns all!**

Draco was particularly anxious the following day as he sat waiting in the courtroom. He was all by himself in the defence section, and it was making him squirm with nerves since the attention of many officials presented was directed at him alone. It was not, however, surprising that he found himself in this solitary position, as the guard had brought him here quite early today. He was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes with lethargic hands, which were cracked and burdened greatly by the many months of being trapped in his icy stone enclosure.

His dreary morning fatigue was interrupted by a sharp hand clapping him on the back. He rose to his feet in shock at being accosted out of the blue.

"You look like shit, old friend!"

Draco's blinked and his gut clenched at the sound of that familiar laid-back voice. He turned to face Theodore Nott with a frown. The other boy was looking exactly as he remembered; flawlessly groomed and with an air of self-confidence that Draco could remember possessing himself before all this happened.

"You haven't change at all," he commented lightly in response, feeling suddenly self-conscious about his appearance next to Theo's decorous robes and perfectly wavy hair. The brunette boy looked him up and down, and he was painfully aware that even though he was dressed neatly in a suit instead of his usual prison robes, he was still a bit dirty and unkempt. Not to mention his now gaunt, underfed features. It was a far cry from the snob he used to be at school. But then Theodore laughed at his comment and the tension between them was immediately broken. Draco grinned too and they moved in for a brief but firm hug. He clasped the other boy's shoulders, thumping him on the back before releasing him and looking sheepishly around the room. But they seemed to be ignored for the most part at the moment.

"How are you doing, Draco?" Theo asked with a dark grimace. He nodded in response, putting on a reassuring smile.

"I'm alright. Better now than I was a few weeks ago. And it's a relief just to be getting this trial over and done with. The waiting was the worst part."

Theo nodded and looking around with a sly smile.

"I was expecting to see your Gryffindor fan club here, actually…"

Draco chuckled at his friend's mischievous expression.

"It's still early," he explained, trying to dismiss the flutter of anticipation in his stomach at the mere thought of Hermione arriving soon. Theo must have seen the silly gleam appear in his eye, for his lips stretched in delight.

"I had the absolute pleasure of becoming reacquainted with a certain Hermione Granger when she came to see me about all this."

Draco's smile cracked a bit but otherwise he stayed calm.

"She has been very helpful," he said mildly. Theodore watched him astutely, one brow raised in a quizzical way.

"Not to mention totally gorgeous now," the boy joked with a sparkle in his gaze as Draco flushed a bit at his words.

"Yes…she is," he agreed seriously, before continuing, "And I couldn't have achieved anything without her aid."

Theo patted him on the shoulder once again.

"She spoke very passionately about your… _situation_ when she approached me. She is determined to win justice for you."

"She's certainly relentless," Draco agreed with a fond laugh. Theo looked him up and down a few times, his cheeky smile plastered on his face before he leaned in closer with a conspiratorial wink.

"You're in trouble, my friend," the boy murmured, "And I don't mean because of the trial…"

Draco chuckled too but shook his head.

"Actually I-"

He snapped his mouth closed when he saw the Gryffindor in question bounding up to them with a coy smile on her face.

"Good morning," she greeted brightly, her eyes darting between the two boys. When they both instantly fell silent, her eyes narrowed a bit suspiciously, clearly realising that they had most likely been talking about her. But then she seemed to brush it aside with ease and smiled prettily once more, "It's nice to see you again, Theodore."

The brunette boy seemed a bit stunned at her pleasant greeting, and he was staring at her in obvious admiration. Draco could hardly blame his friend for his amazed look; she was stunning today. Her curls were luscious and silky, spilling in chocolate waves around her shoulders, and she was wearing a thin woollen jumper in a deep red that hugged her curves delightfully.

"Hello again," Theo recovered and replied to her with a gallant sort of bow, grasping her hand so he could place a kiss on her knuckles. Draco rolled his eyes and clenched his hands, suddenly dreading his friend's predictably flirtatious manner, "You are even more lovely than the last time we met!"

Draco was used to seeing girls melting right down to their shoes when Theo turned on the charm, but Hermione just looked curious, then faintly entertained by his antics.

"Yes…well, I'm glad you could make it today, Theodore."

He gave her a cavalier smile.

"Please, call me Theo! Only my mother calls me Theodore. And besides, we're friends now, aren't we?"

Hermione lifted one eyebrow cynically, giving the brunette a dry smile.

"Uh…sure."

She turned to Draco then and smirked at him, sharing a look of amusement about his fried. Draco felt his pulse quicken at her attention and he shuffled a step closer.

"How are you?" the curly haired Gryffindor asked with a tender smile.

"I'm fine," he replied, very aware of the presence of his friend next to them, whose eyes were widened in interest. But she just pressed on, uncaring of their audience.

"I was going to come visit you tomorrow since there's no court session. Is there anything you need or want?"

Draco thought about it, giving her a sheepish shrug.

"Well I wouldn't say no to a strong cup of tea…"

Hermione laughed sweetly and her cheeks crinkled with dimples.

"Oh, you poor thing!" she exclaimed, "Of course you haven't had any tea. Well, I think I can arrange that."

Theo was clearly sick of being ignored, even if had only been less than a minute since he had been part of the conversation. He gave her a soft pat on the hand.

"That's so kind of you! You must care about Draco a great deal…"

Hermione blushed a bit, but before Draco could scold his friend for making them both feel uncomfortable, they were joined by Potter and Narcissa who were both looking tired but glad to join the little group.

"Ah! Mrs Malfoy, What a pleasure."

Theo was almost as charming towards Draco's mother as he had been with Hermione, but his eyes did keep flicking back to the curly haired girl who was embracing her friend now. He assumed that Theo was simply astounded at how beautiful she had become since they had all left school. He shook his head with fond exasperation, vowing to keep an eye on him.

"Theodore," Draco's mother exclaimed in a very controlled voice, looking him up and down critically, "You seem excited to be here. I hope you don't think this is some kind of game."

Theo instantly sobered, his eyes widening at the scorn in her voice.

"Not at all, Mrs Malfoy. I am quite resolute," he vowed earnestly, looking all at once like a little schoolboy in trouble.

"I'm glad to hear it."

Draco laughed at the interaction between his mother and friend. He felt a warm presence beside him and then he recognised the soft touch of Hermione's hand as she slipped it into his. She was also watching his rather outgoing friend in amusement and she squeezed his hand supportively. Draco felt his body spark as if she had set it on fire. He turned to stare at her in delight. She had initiated the contact between then, and looked quite comfortable standing there holding his hand. He felt the shiver creep up his spine. He watched her without her noticing his attention for a long moment, drinking her in. It was no wonder Theodore had been so dumbstruck by her arrival; she was beautiful and lively, and the intelligence that shone from her eyes never failed to utterly bewitch him. Unable to stop himself, Draco shuffled closer to her, raising her hand to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand softly, much more intimately than Theo had, allowing his mouth to linger on her skin as she finally lifted her eyes to his. Hermione blinked a couple of times and visibly swallowed. At that moment Draco became aware out the corner of his eye that both his mother and Potter were watching them with intensely worried expressions. His mother's lips were pursed in a harsh line and Potter was rocking with nervous energy between each foot as if he wanted to interrupt them. He wondered if they had a problem with him pursuing Hermione so aggressively while still in prison. It was extremely possible that her friend – his childhood nemesis in fact – would disapprove of their closeness.

Hermione, for her part, seemed pleased by his affectionate gesture, since she smiled prettily at him and chewed into her bottom lip with an adorable expression of longing. His pulse raced and his skin felt flushed with desire at the look she gave him.

But then, all of a sudden she seemed to shudder. Her brows furrowed and her eyes cleared a bit from their earlier fogginess as she drew her hand away hurriedly and stepped backwards. Draco frowned as she twisted her fingers together nervously.

"We should probably take our seats," she stammered with a slight edge of panic. Draco opened his mouth stupidly, not knowing what to say or how to reassure her that everything was okay. Before he could, Potter quickly moved forwards to take her arm and guide her to their bench behind his chair, taking her out of his reach.

Draco cursed himself under his breath. He had been pushing her again, but she had said she wanted to wait. It was just hard to keep his hands to himself and his feelings restrained around her. He sighed and went to take his seat. But before he could settle in, Theo grabbed his arm and leaned over to whisper theatrically in his ear.

"Have you really got the hots for Granger?"

Theo's gaze was wide with surprise, causing Draco to give his friend a surprisingly impish smile.

"Can you blame me?"

The brunette shook his head bemusedly, shooting an appreciative look in the direction of the curly haired girl whose head was bowed speaking in hushed tones to Potter.

"Not at all! I'm just shocked and a little worried that you've totally lost your marbles and gone mad stuck in that prison."

Draco chuckled.

"And why is that?"

Theo cocked his head to one side with a pointed look.

"Uhh… because _she's_ a muggleborn. And _you're_ Draco sodding Malfoy."

Draco squirmed a bit guiltily in his seat at this reminder of his old prejudices.

"A lot has changed since we were at school, Theo-" he began with a flush of shame, but Theo interrupted him.

"Well I obviously knew you no longer believed that pureblood bullshit. Even at school your views had softened." he joked.

"Of course they did! You're here as my character witness aren't you?"

The court was called to take their seats and Mr Kennard arranged his notes in an organised fashion. Theo leaned in closer as everyone quietened down and gave one last whisper.

"Lucky bastard!"

He left to quickly return to his own seat. Draco looked back at him and rolled his eyes when the other boy just winked. But then his gaze moved to where Hermione was sitting, partially huddled against the shoulder of her best friend. She still had a slightly fearful, anguished expression on her face and it made his throat turn suddenly dry. He wished he knew what was going on. Even his mother appeared ruffled, and she was usually very serene. Both her and Potter kept looking over at Hermione with anxious glances. It made him clench his jaw with a sullen pout. He was not used to being isolated from things like this. He felt like he was on the outside of some strange secret. And he had a feeling that whatever it was, he should be very worried.

….

Hermione woke trembling and in a cold sweat two nights later. It took a few moments for her to get her bearings, as she clutched at the ache radiating out from her chest with a weak hand. She forced herself to take a few slow, steadying breaths and propped herself to sit upright. The sheets were tangled around her legs and damp from perspiration.

 _Just breathe…just breathe…_

When she finally managed to get her pulse to calm down and to take in a few gulping swallows of air, she allowed her body to relax again. Hermione shifted to one side to lean her throbbing head against the cool wall next to her.

There could only be one logical explanation for her current state of distress. She had spent a couple of hours at the prison earlier that day. It had been… exhilarating, if she was honest. She had felt thrilled to spend so much time alone with Draco, getting to know him properly instead of just impulsively as a reaction to all this adversity. They had talked about everything and nothing, from their hopes for their future careers right down to their favourite Honeydukes products. She had sheepishly told him that her parents were dentists and did not approve of so much sugar. She remembered his response.

"And uh…what do dentists do?"

She had tried to smile with a friendly disposition, but all the while was worried that his old bigotry would reveal itself.

"They are like doctors, but specifically look after teeth."

"Teeth?"

"Yes, since muggles don't use healing charms and potions, they use different surgical methods to tend to fillings and cavities, straighten crooked bites and cure gum infections…"

Hermione had trailed off, glancing surreptitiously up at Draco's face to see his reaction to this explanation about her muggle parents. He had seemed bemused but then a winning smile had slowly stretched his lips.

"Interesting. I suppose that explains why you have such a dazzling smile."

Hermione had snorted, giving him a withering look, but noticing his cheeky smirk.

"You and I both know I fixed them with magic in our fourth year."

Draco had chuckled too, and the conversation had continued from there with lots of easy laughter, soothing old wounds and mending the conflicts from their past.

Hermione tilted her head back to rest against the wall of her room in Grimmauld Place, releasing a shaky breath. It couldn't be a coincidence that she had spent a glorious afternoon with Draco and now she had woken up in such a dreadful state. They had really opened up to each other. He had revealed all the darkest secrets from his youth, and she had walked away understanding him a lot better. She could see how he had developed such a distinct hatred towards people like her due to his father's overpowering influence, but then how that perception had thawed dramatically during his time at Hogwarts. She was worried for his testimony in court. He would surely find it difficult to expose his soul in such an intimate way in front of so many strangers. But he had seemed relieved to tell _her._ Like it was a huge weight off his shoulders. She had seen how he had begged her to think of him not as a spiteful Death Eater who was merely feeling self-pity, but as a stupid boy who had been misled and manipulated. And she believed him. He was clearly hurt and genuinely remorseful about his past. It was a perception of himself that had been supported by his candid, although slightly eccentric, friend Theo. The other Slytherin boy had spoken very articulately to the court about Draco's true character. He had revealed the moral conflict he had seen within his friend and the dangers piled on him by his father. It had been very persuasive and the majority of the court had seemed impressed by this new, vulnerable account of Draco given by someone who was a hell of a lot more reliable than Pansy Parkinson. There too Theo had been useful. He had denounced Pansy as being a scheming bitch out to get revenge. Hermione remembered his sassy insults about the witch with a fond smile, as well as some of the muffled chuckles of the Wizengamot. The boy was certainly loyal to his friend. And she could most definitely sympathise, since she had also developed a certain devotion to him in recent weeks and months. If only things weren't so complicated, she thought wistfully. If their tumultuous past wasn't enough to disturb her, then adding on his imprisonment, the trial and the threat of the life debt, it was almost too much to bear.

Today when she had packed up her charmed teapot and made to leave, she had been unable to resist as Draco drew her into his arms and kissed her soundly. It had started quite fierce, but gentled until he drew away with a groan.

"I know you want to wait to see what happens with the trial… But every second I spend with you just enthrals me more! I am living in a state of terror and excitement just hoping that I'll be acquitted. Because I want so much more than this…"

Hermione had nodded. She remembered stroking a hand through his blond hair soothingly.

"I really enjoyed our chat today, Draco. I liked learning more about you and seeing the _real_ you."

He had smiled happily before she had extricated herself carefully, aware of the possible pain that could plague her if the life debt was awakened. She had promised to see him again at court, but he had just stood with a small pout on his face, his gaze yearning. She couldn't help giggling at the visage of the spoilt boy she remembered from their youth. He had seemed terribly disappointed to have their embrace cut short, but she knew it was for the best. She had placed a tender kiss on his cheek and given him her farewell in a breathy, reluctant voice.

And now she was sitting half-slouched in her bed in the pitch black of the night, broken intermittently by the rhythmic flashes from the broken street lamp outside. Her mind was still foggy from sleep and from that horrible pain that had woken her. Her heart was still squeezing against her ribs as if it wanted to escape. She wiped a hand across her forehead and considered the story that Narcissa had found about Sir Archibald. At the time she had dismissed it as fanciful nonsense, but now she wasn't so sure. She had been cynical about the story of the Deathly Hallows last year in the Tales from Beedle the Bard, believing it to be childish myth. But she had been wrong about that, and she wondered if she was wrong about this too. Was it possible that her life really was in danger since the debt could not be satisfied?

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to swallow against the dry, grating feeling in her throat. Her mouth convulsed with anguish as she contemplated her situation. If she continued in this way, she would doom both herself and Draco – who would surely be heartbroken. But she didn't see any way out of it. She only hoped that the text had been wrong, and she could find a way to resolve this. Because right now she was trying very hard not to be overwhelmed by her growing trepidation as well as her deepening feelings for Draco. But she was afraid that, despite all the obstacles and reasons not to, she was starting to fall in love with him.

….

….

Narcissa sat proudly in the courtroom, her chin held high as Draco got the chance at last to give his testimony. After days of hearing accounts of him from other people, he could finally speak for himself. She was nervous too, for she knew he would find it so difficult to be so honest and open when it wasn't usually in his nature. Like many Slytherins, her son was still very secretive and private. Not that he had any choice. And she supposed that he had been rather more unguarded lately. Ever since Hermione had come along. She had worked miracles in a very short time. Even before he had been arrested, Draco had suffered severely from the trauma caused by the war and his father. Narcissa sighed and allowed her eyes to flicker towards the young woman in question who sat near her. She seemed well enough, though she was sitting on the edge of her seat and her fingernails were digging into her cheeks. It seemed as though the girl was just as anxious as Draco was, though much worse at concealing it.

As Jenkins continued his relentless questions, Draco fixed the nasty swine with a haughty scowl.

"As I said before," her son interrupted stubbornly, "I was threatened in no uncertain terms, that if I did _not_ find a way to let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts then my mother or father could be killed…"

Jenkins scoffed rudely and held out his hands.

"And is this the father who we have proven in this very court had committed such heinous, sadistic acts as murder, rape and torture in service of the same Dark Lord you insist you were enslaved to?"

Draco scowled.

"He might have been a sick bastard, but he was still my father. And my mother certainly didn't deserve such a fate."

"But both of them were working for Vo…Voldemort!"

"Are you suggesting I should have just allowed my own parents to be murdered or _worse?_ My mother was just as trapped as I was!"

Jenkins sneered coldly, reading through the notes in front of him. He had been interrogating Draco in this manner for almost an hour now. One earlier focus had been on certain events that occurred in Malfoy Manor and his relationship to his aunt Bellatrix. But now he had moved on to questioning him about Dumbledore.

"But we have heard from witnesses that you boasted proudly of becoming a Death Eater. Miss Parkinson said you were honoured to be given the task of murdering Headmaster Dumbledore."

She saw Draco's face crinkled up in disgust at the mention of Pansy Parkinson, but he tried to answer the question as calmly as possible.

"Yes, but as _Theodore Nott_ clearly told you, the friends who were closer to me knew how much I struggled and endured that year."

"And yet many of your observed actions and words suggest otherwise," Jenkins pointed out sharply. Narcissa felt a pang in her chest as her poor son practically fumed with frustration.

"At the time, Slytherin house contained a number of other students whose parents were Death Eaters. I could hardly talk publically about my reluctance or horror for what was happening to me. They would have reported it all to their parents and it would have got back to the Dark Lord…"

Jenkins nodded briefly, though he looked sceptical.

"You did, however, accept the Dark Mark that summer and show it off to select members of your house, did you not?"

Narcissa saw Hermione tilt her body forwards out of the corner of her eye. The Gryffindor girl was shaking her foot nervously and her face was twisted into a look of abject pity. Draco's expression was livid.

"I loathed that vile mark from the moment it was forced on me," he snapped passionately, his voice cracking.

"But you were _not_ forced. You partook willingly in an initiation ceremony, yes?"

His lips pursed and his eyes went cold in an expression Narcissa recognised very well; he was trying not to appear too exposed in front of so many people.

"Absolutely not. I was paraded in front of the Dark Lord like a trophy for the amusement of others. If I had protested in any way whatsoever I would have been murdered without hesitation. I may have appeared willing, but I can assure you I was not."

Jenkins glowered at him suspiciously.

"But you have no proof of this. All the evidence would indicate that you were present and co-operative."

Draco fidgeted in his seat for a long time without answering. Narcissa sat further upright and swallowed the painful lump that had formed in her throat. She wondered how he would approach this. He seemed reluctant to reveal the truth. She couldn't blame him; it would be most degrading for him. She watched as Draco's eyes flickered towards their box in the defence section. He looked directly at Hermione, clearly seeking some kind of encouragement. Narcissa looked to her left and saw the girl's eyes glistening slightly with tears, but she nodded supportively, grimacing in a sad smile. Draco seemed to take a deep breath and gain courage from this. He turned back to face the front, looking anguished but determined.

"I tried to get rid of it."

Jenkins cocked an eyebrow in surprise as a muttering passed through the court.

"What do you mean?"

Draco swallowed and fixed his posture to try and appear more confident.

"I wanted to cut it off. I was...depressed one night and not thinking of the consequences. I took a knife to my arm…and…"

He shook his head with a pained grimace. Obviously deciding that it would be easier to show than to tell, he grasped the sleeve of his suit and slid it up his arm, exposing his skin to the court. A shocked hissing sound spread around the room, and several gasps stood out when they realised what they were seeing. Narcissa winced with regret and despair, and saw that Hermione's face mirrored hers. Beside them, Harry was clearly stunned like the rest of the Wizengamot. Carved into his arm right down the middle of the Dark Mark was a jagged purple scar. It had clearly been made hastily and with no kind of finesse. She closed her eyes briefly; she was deeply distressed by the reminder of this past torment her son had gone through. The shocked sounds that had filtered through the courtroom like ripples across a still pond became silent. Now there was only an eerie hush and intense, horrified stares directed at her son. Draco became increasingly uncomfortable with this scrutiny and eventually shook his sleeve down so that he was covered up once more.

Kingsley Shacklebolt cleared his throat loudly in the hushed room. He sat forwards and glanced around him, absorbing the general mood of those present.

"Well, I believe now would be an appropriate time to adjourn and take a short break. We will reconvene in one hour."

Narcissa let out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding. She collapsed back in her seat and let her body tingle with anxious energy, forcing her breathing to slow. It would be over soon, she reminded herself with a grieved heart, watching her son steadily stand and return to them against the increasing backdrop of noise. She could see the slight trembling in his fingers and knees that gave away his terror, but his face remained perfectly calm. He was being so very courageous, she thought. He immediately walked towards Hermione, who leaned over the box in which they were seated, uncaring of their audience, and embraced him. Narcissa couldn't help the worried frown from breaking her normally serene features. She watched the girl carefully for any distress or pain, but nothing was apparent. Maybe it wasn't as bad as they'd feared.

"You're doing _so_ well," she heard Hermione murmur soothingly, "I think you might just have some Gryffindor courage in you!"

Her tone was sly, and it caused Draco to chuckle and immediately relax as they began their usual banter. But they still held on tightly to each other. She noticed the Minister for Magic watching them in bemusement from his seat up in the gallery.

"You take that back," he objected in mock outrage. Hermione giggled.

"Never."

Draco leaned back and smiled at her openly, without any artifice or secrecy. Narcissa liked seeing him this way.

"You must be a good influence on me then," he said with a chuckle. She laughed as well, although her voice sounded a little hoarse this time when she spoke.

 _"_ Well _you_ are most definitely a bad influence on me! _"_

Draco stroked a hand through her curls.

"I haven't even begun to corrupt you yet, Hermione," he teased and she smiled beautifully. Her eyes glistened even though she sniffled slightly. Narcissa, however, became very conscious of all the stares still being directed their way and she cleared her throat, catching Harry's eye meaningfully.

"Perhaps we should relocate to our side room. I'm sure we can summon some food there."

Harry nodded in understanding, also sensing how public they were being. As the boy pulled Hermione gently away from Draco, Narcissa stepped forward to put an arm around her son. The blond boy leaned in closely, wrapping his arm around her waist in return and giving her waist a little squeeze.

"I'm sorry I said those things about…fa…Lucius,"

Narcissa knew he couldn't bring himself to say the word "father." His feelings towards the man were far too bitter and hostile, although he usually tried his best to be more circumspect with his hatred for _her_ sake. She sighed.

"Don't be. You have every right. I'm the one who's sorry, darling."

Draco kissed her cheek affectionately, before steering her towards the side room, Harry and Hermione following behind them directly. She rested her head on her son's shoulder, treasuring this moment with him before it all turned to madness once again.

….

 **Nearing the end of the trial – it's judgment time next chapter! And what will become of poor Hermione? Please leave delicious reviews to inspire me.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

 **Some really nice reviews last chapter, thank you so much! My favourite was from** **HermioneGrangerTheDragonTamer** **who was particularly effervescent with her compliments. Cheers lovely!**

 **Brace yourselves for some more 'justice' drama! Enjoy and please review. As always, JKR created all the important stuff.**

….

Harry Potter had dreamed for years of becoming an Auror. It was the only thing that had ever really made sense to him, aside from Quidditch of course. He had always been drawn to Defence Against the Dark Arts, despite some genuinely lousy teachers, not to mention his traumatic experiences with Voldemort. It was just a perfect fit. Even so, he had no firm expectations when he entered the Auror program at the Ministry of Magic. He had been hoping that there would be more practical training than at school – he had endured enough theory to last him a lifetime during his fifth year with Umbridge. But until he really got started at the ministry he had not realised how much he would stand out. There were a few new intakes that year, but having so recently defeated the fearsome, virtually immortal Lord Voldemort himself, Harry could not avoid the inevitable _special treatment_ that came with being a hero.

Normally he despised the way everyone pandered to him. He was sick of being given top marks and being assigned to all the best practice cases just because he was their precious Chosen One. It really wasn't fair to the others and made him so embarrassed.

But Harry couldn't deny that there were times, very rarely, when it really paid off being The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. One such example presented itself when he tackled Kingsley Shacklebolt – the Minister of Magic himself – that very afternoon. The Minister's personal secretary didn't dare question him or deny him entrance into his office when he arrived. She merely simpered and stammered with a rather ugly blush on her cheeks as he announced, "I need to see him" and strode straight past and into the office adjacent to her desk without another word. And Kingsley himself knew how troublesome it would be to piss off the Wizarding world's biggest hero. He was eager to appease Harry with almost any request.

 _Poor Kingsley,_ he thought with a sigh, hanging his jacket just inside the entrance to Number 12 Grimmauld Place as he apparated back to the front door.

Even though he greatly respected the newly appointed minister, the poor man was, as always, fighting a constant battle for public image. The people needed to trust in the government again after so much instability and corruption. And they adored Harry Potter. Having him on side was invaluable. He wondered with a dry laugh whether the Ministry would ever be effective at actually running the damn community instead of just trying to _appear_ successful.

Harry made his way slowly through to the kitchen of the old Black house, giving Kreacher a friendly smile as the elf got busy making a pot of tea for his arrival. He drummed his fingers on the table top thoughtfully as he considered the subject of his visit today. He had finally managed to convince Narcissa to give him one of the death threats she had received over the last few months since Draco's arrest. They had only gotten more vicious and worrying after his trial began, undoubtedly because he was doing rather well at proving his innocence. It was clear that there were still Death Eaters out there, on the run, who wanted him to rot in prison or worse. The two surviving Malfoys had both been important figures in publically denouncing Voldemort. Narcissa had even helped Harry during the final battle. And if Draco was acquitted it would be a monumental step forwards in combatting old prejudices, since he had been quite open and honest about his opinion of his dead master. That would only be strengthened by the court's validation of his character.

When Harry had slapped the death threat down on the Minister's desk, at first Kingsley had tried to repeat what Narcissa had already been told. That there was nothing they could do. They were already searching for these Death Eaters. And the letters did not actually reveal much themselves. But Harry had insisted that they file it as a serious concern, and there was nothing Kingsley could do but capitulate. The letter had been immediately sent to the auror office for assessment. It was the least Harry could do to help the Malfoys. Narcissa had been so helpful with their research into life debts, and he was sincerely concerned about her all alone in that big house. He hoped the wards were strong enough to keep out any enemies. He remembered Kingsley's amused expression before he left.

 _"You should have gone into politics, Harry!"_

 _Harry had chuckled, genuinely tickled by the comment._

 _"I would rather hunt down pieces of Voldemort's soul again than do your job, Kingsley!"_

 _"Well it's a pity – you're obviously a natural."_

Kingsley had been teasing him of course, but it wasn't exactly easy to avoid all the bureaucracy even in the Auror program. It turned out that being Harry Potter made _everything_ more complicated. But he was pretty used to it. He had been practicing since he was eleven…

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a thump from upstairs. Harry immediately frowned and got to his feet. He wound up two steep flights of stairs in pursuit of the noise. But it was all silent now. Worrying about his friend, Harry gently creaked open the door to Hermione's room, rapping his knuckles softly against the old wood. When he saw her inside the room he hurried in, his pulse skipping.

"Hermione?"

She groaned a bit from where she slouched on the floor next to the bed. Harry instantly rushed over to her and crouched down on the floor by her side.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled through gritted teeth, which were clicking together as she shivered. Harry leaned forwards and pushed her curls off her face, noticing how pale her skin was under the thin sheen of sweat.

"Are you alright? What's wrong?"

Her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked them open. She peered up at him owlishly.

"I was reading in bed and I went up to get a glass of water but I got suddenly faint. I was having trouble breathing…"

Her voice faded as she stared at the floor beneath them. Harry swallowed and stroked her hair soothingly.

"Is it the debt?" he asked nervously. He watched as Hermione scowled in consideration, before slowly nodding her head.

"Yes, I think so…" she started hesitantly, before her mouth firmed into a grimace, "Yes. It's definitely the life debt."

Harry cocked his head to the side, continuing to smooth her hair back, tucking it behind her ear.

"How do you know?"

"I can feel it. It's hard to explain but…it's like a thrumming of magic beneath my skin…"

Harry's throat clenched in sympathy. He tucked himself against the bedframe next to her, wrapping his arm around her. She took a deep breath and leaned into him, allowing him to hold her close. Her shoulders shook as she recovered from the shock she'd had, and he just continued to stroke his fingers up and down her arm to reassure her.

"Have you considered…er…getting a bit of space?"

"What?"

He sighed and squeezed her shoulder.

"Just take a break from Malfoy. You're obviously in danger-"

"I can't, Harry!"

Hermione tilted her head to stare up at him with wide eyes. She looked appalled. Harry returned her gaze earnestly.

"Why not? This is madness!"

She shook her head, curls sticking out wildly.

"Because I'm doomed either way! I'm falling in love with him. And I'd still owe him this debt regardless. So maybe if I continue to spend time with him and study my physical reactions to him, I can figure out a way to fix this before it gets worse!"

Harry glared at her.

"It's already worse. And going rapidly downhill!"

"I know," she groaned, resting her head against his shoulder once more, burrowing her forehead into him, "Please don't think poorly of me. I'm scared, Harry…"

Harry bit his lip, knowing she wasn't in the mood to hear him lecture her or try to force distance between her and Malfoy, so he fell silent. He just cradled her head against his neck and placed a kiss on her hair, reassuring her of his steadfastness as a friend and a shoulder to lean on.

"I'm sorry. It's going to be okay," he eventually murmured, "We're going to keep searching until we find something."

"I hope so." she sighed sadly. They sat together in companionable silence for another few minutes, just holding onto each other for comfort, before a niggling doubt started to eat away at Harry. It had been bothering him for days. He shifted slightly beneath his friend and cleared his throat.

"Hermione…" he began in a wary voice.

"Hmm?"

"If Draco is released this week, will you tell him?"

Hermione was quiet for a long time after he had asked. He felt her squirm a bit against his side before she finally raised her chin to meet his eye.

"I'll have to," she confessed, though her brows were furrowed together darkly, "He will surely notice my discomposure if I don't."

Harry nodded in understanding, nudging his forehead against hers with a soft smile.

"Don't worry. I'm sure he will understanding why you kept it secret from him…"

Hermione snorted.

"Hmm I'm not so sure. I think he will despise me."

He thought back on the recent interactions between his friend and the Slytherin boy, which he had deliberately tried to witness so as to appease some of his lingering self-doubt. He had noticed in particular the way the blond boy always watched her when she wasn't even aware of it. Harry had almost been frightened by the intensity of his gaze.

"Well, he might be angry, but Hermione… I don't think he could ever hate you."

Maybe the quiet certainty in his tone had soothed her, or maybe it was his actual words, but Hermione beamed at him and proceeded to snuggle up against his side again. Harry sighed and leant his head against hers, hoping that everything would go well that week. For the sake of his friend, he would close his eyes and pray for a positive outcome in the trial.

….

….

The night shrouded many things in this part of London that people preferred to keep hidden, and this particular Wizarding pub was a magnet for folk with a dark secret or two. It was late enough, and stormy enough, that the taproom had all but cleared, with only a few drunks and whores milling around as they drowned their sorrows. A cloaked figure sat hunched crookedly over his tankard. There was a sinister scowl marring his face and a haunted sort of madness that shone from his eyes. His watery, blood-shot eyes. Although concealed, the puckered red scar splicing through his lip curled up crudely as he sneered at the newspaper in front of him. The Daily Prophet had been such a beautiful piece of political artistry when he was working at the Ministry under the Dark Lord's reign. But now it was barely worth the grubby paper they dared to print it on. He clenched his fist, the paper crumpling up in his hand like dust.

 _Filthy fucking blood traitors…_

The sound of the paper crinkling in the grip of his leathery fingers was surprisingly loud in the small room. Thorfinn Rowle's eyes darted up hurriedly and scanned the room, but breathed a sigh of relief when nobody looked his way. It was imperative that he wasn't recognised. He would be damned if he ended up a withered, snivelling wreck in Azkaban. Wary of the attention he might attract, he gently released the paper and it slowly unravelled back from its deformed shape. The still ragged front page was plastered in front of him with despicable photos that he could hardly stand to look at.

Draco Malfoy, the spineless piece of shit spawned from that pathetic sycophant Lucius Malfoy was positioned in the left hand side of the frame. He looked neat in a freshly pressed suit but his face was gaunt and shadowed. He was being escorted into the courtroom at the ministry to attend his trial.

 _A bloody farce…_

But as furious as the sight of that cowardly prick made him, it was figure on the right that truly made his blood boil. Accompanying the little brat into the courtroom with a shy smile on his face was none other than Harry fucking Potter. The two boys looked quite comfortable together. Potter even leaned over and murmured something into the Malfoy boy's ear and he nodded in agreement. They appeared to be allies, maybe even friends. The article rambled on at great length about how heroic Potter had defended the former Death Eater so bravely.

 _Lucius Malfoy will be rolling in his grave…_

As much as Rowle had always detested the elder Malfoy, at least he had the dignity to honour their Lord right to the end. But this insipid pandering that the son was doing to escape punishment was grotesque. He was betraying everything they stood for. Rowle had already been enraged by the actions of Narcissa Malfoy in that last battle, helping Potter in the forbidden forest and dooming them all. But seeing Draco Malfoy actually consorting with mudbloods and blood traitors actually ate away at his sanity.

The bad blood of the mother had infected her offspring. If the boy hadn't been the spitting image of his father, he would have suspected her of breeding with a muggleborn, such was the shame of having a son like this.

It wasn't right.

It was vile. It was treachery of the cruellest, most vicious kind.

And it had to be stopped.

….

….

The nervous tension in the room was palpable. Draco could feel everyone's eyes on him as he paced furiously back and forth in the small space. His hands were clenched tightly behind his back, fingers trembling. After closing statements by both Kennard and Jenkins, the Wizengamot had dismissed them all to their side room to await a decision. He desperately wished he knew what was happening on the other side of that door. He had tried to discern some kind of emotion in their faces before he left, but most of them remained stony and unreadable.

They had been sequestered for almost an hour now, and with every minute that passed his nerves frayed and burned more as he waited on the edge of some precipice, beyond which was darkness and the unknown.

 _Just calm down,_ he reminded himself, _there's nothing you can do now…_

Realising that he was probably being rude by ignoring everyone else who had worked so hard for him, he spun around to face them. Draco pursed his lips as he watched them in wary silence for a long moment. Kennard was sitting in the opposite corner, reading his newspaper. The only outward sign that he was in a similar state of anticipation was the rhythmic twitching of his foot, up and down quickly at the end of his crossed legs.

Against one wall, Potter was sitting with Draco's mother. They were murmuring to each other about something. The other boy kept gesturing towards a piece of paper he had clenched in his hand. But it was his mother's expression that worried him most. She was frowning half in resignation, half in anxiety. She kept trying to placate Potter, but it was clear she didn't really believe what she was saying herself. Since they hadn't yet noticed him, Draco managed to hear small snippets of their whispering. Potter was looking insistent.

"The letters are getting worse… you need to allow us….guards around the perimeter…not safe…won't be inconvenienced…"

Narcissa raised her hands as if in defeat.

"If he's released…worse…I will agree…for his sake…"

Draco had no idea what they were speaking of. He could only hear pieces of their conversation and therefore could make no sense of it. He was preparing himself to step forwards and ask them directly, when his eyes were drawn to the last pair of people there in the room. His attention was diverted by a soft giggle, and his eyes darted over to stare balefully at Hermione on the opposite side of the room next to Theo, their heads bent together conspiratorially as they chatted softly. His heart skipped and he let his eyes narrow into an irrational, impetuous glare. Logically he knew that they were not, _could_ not, be flirting with each other. All her actions recently, since the first time she had rejected him anyway, seemed to demonstrate her fondness for him. Even if her affection was not equal to his yet, since he was so madly, foolishly in love, she still clearly cared. At that moment, Theo threw his head back and laughed, dazzling her with his beaming smile. Hermione grinned in return, fiddling with one of her curls self-consciously.

Draco couldn't help himself from moving cautiously over towards them, the conversation between Potter and his mother all but forgotten. He strained to hear their voices, wincing at the easy friendliness between them.

"You've done an admirable job of distracting me," Hermione chuckled with an appreciative look at the brown haired Slytherin boy.

"My pleasure, sweetheart-"

Draco cleared his throat insistently, stepping quite close to the pair as he felt his stomach clench uncontrollably. As he did, Hermione turned and smiled encouragingly up at him, while Theo shot him a guilty grimace. He wondered about their dissimilar reactions to being interrupted. It was obvious that Theo was rather captivated by the curly haired Gryffindor, just as it was obvious she was unaffected by his friend's flirtatious manner.

With his fearful pacing now most definitely at an end, Hermione rose to her feet, immediately transferring her attention to him. She took his hands in hers and peered up at him with those bottomless brown eyes.

"Are you alright?" she asked in a soft, private voice.

Draco pushed away all his silly, childish feelings of jealousy and squeezed her hands.

"I'm terrified," he admitted with a slight croak in his voice. He saw the pity sharpen in her gaze as she reached forward to brush a strand of his blond hair off his forehead.

"If the outcome is poor, Draco…you know we're going to appeal and keep fighting, don't you?"

He nodded glumly, leaning pitifully into the caress of her fingers. It was his only source of comfort in the darkness.

"I don't want you wasting your life on me-" he began, but Hermione quickly shushed him with a stern glare.

"Don't be ridiculous!" she declared with such certainty that he felt a quiver of pleasure in his chest. He was sure his mouth had betrayed him by slipping into a grateful smile.

"What were you and Theo talking about?" he asked with forced casualness. Hermione smiled as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. She shrugged her shoulders.

"You," she replied simply. Draco cocked his head to one side questioningly.

"Oh?"

She smirked.

"Yes. I was being regaled with stories of your exploits as a young Slytherin boy…"

Draco groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead.

"Damnit, Theo!" he groaned, causing the other boy to laugh delightedly from behind them.

"I have to compete with you somehow…"

Before Draco could retort, a knocking on the door cause an immediate, anxious silence to descend on the room. All good humour or calmness was drained from their countenances as Mr Kennard rose to answer. Draco's heart thundered as the older man muttered a hasty conversation with the person on the other side of the door. When he finally turned back to them, his expression was grim.

"It's time," he murmured, and the other five occupants of the room took a deep, collective breath. Narcissa stepped forwards with wide, fearful eyes. She was twisting her fingers together in an uncommon sign of distress.

"Oh Draco…" she whispered hoarsely, clearly unable to continue with what she wanted to say. Draco quickly wrapped his arms around her and they held each other for a few precious seconds. When they parted, he looked over her shoulder at the two boys who were now standing waiting as his personal escort to proceed into the courtroom. He reached forward and shook Potter's hand, then Theo's. His mind and body had gone fairly numb through all this, even though everyone else was clearly showing their emotion. He wasn't sure what to do or think. He was just ready for it all to be over. He glanced back at his mother and at Hermione before meeting Potter's eye with a serious expression.

"If I don't…I need…" he coughed and paused, unable to say the right words. Eventually he pursed his lips firmly together and just said, "Look after them."

Potter observed him carefully for a moment before nodding solemnly. His face was equally sincere, and it actually comforted Draco more than he thought it would. He felt an unexpected and unfamiliar wave of gratitude for his former nemesis.

And last, before they moved to return to the courtroom and to a decision that would shape the rest of his life, he pulled Hermione towards him. They didn't need to say anything else to each other. He clasped her face in his hands, stroking across her cheeks with his fingers before tangling them in her hair. He kissed her softly, not quite chastely on her bottom lip. He wasn't even conscious of the audience standing next to them anymore. Hermione shivered and gripped his forearms tightly, her nails digging into his skin. When he finally pulled away, yearning for more as usual, he enjoyed the way she tilted forwards on the balls of her feet to prolong the contact for one more second.

No words passed between them now. She just licked her lips and smiled up at him, her eyes communicating more than any talking ever could. Draco soothed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip before pulling away. With a nod of determination in Kennard's direction, the lawyer opened the door and, as a group, they made their way back into the courtroom. They all stayed quite close together, making their way towards their usual box in a supportive huddle, Draco in the centre. He felt the warmth of their comfort clashing with coldness of his dread. All eyes in the Wizengamot were focused on him with an intensity that made a tingle wander up his spine. There was a mixture of expressions in the audience ranging from pleased to bitter and even some hatred. He had no idea what it all meant. The small gathering of press and photographers gazed beadily down at him like predators stalking their prey, waiting for their big scoop. Everybody took their seats with trepidation as Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke in a steady, booming voice.

"Would the defendant please stand?"

Draco had to give his shaky knees a stern warning to support his weight, but he did manage to stumble to his feet eventually. A cold sweat was forming on his palms, so he surreptitiously wiped them on his pants and then clasped his hands together. He hoped he didn't look as terrified as he felt. Kingsley nodded to him and continued calmly.

"Draco Malfoy, this trial has been undertaken by the Wizengamot to determine whether you are guilty of the following charges; murder, torture by use of dark magic, aggravated sexual assault and conspiracy to overthrow the government "

Draco was holding his breath. He felt sort of dizzy and had to blink to focus on what was unfolding in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione gripping his mother's hand tightly in hers, their knuckles white as they held firmly onto each other.

"The majority of the court feels that your age and circumstances do need to be taken into consideration. Throughout the trial you have provided sufficient evidence of your _unwillingness_ to commit certain crimes. We therefore find you not guilty of all charges."

A huge gasp of relief was heard to his left, and he knew that his small group of supports were all clinging to each other in joyful gratitude. He saw that his mother had closed her eyes and seemed to be whispering the word _thank you_ to the ceiling. Draco's fingers curled right up until his fingernails were piercing the skin. He took a long, rattling breath and tried to absorb what he had heard. But the words wouldn't seem to sink in.

 _Not guilty…_

His jaw clenched as he tried his hardest not to smile. But before the happy reactions of his friends and family could become too energetic, Kingsley held up a hand imperiously to continue.

"However, we do acknowledge the suffering and degradation that was caused by the Malfoy family as a whole throughout the war, which certainly included _your_ actions in letting the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and the many instances of torture that took place in your own home. We believe you must be forced to accept some level of responsibility and reparation for these offences to the Wizarding community as a sign of remorse and co-operation with the Ministry. We therefore sentence you to pay a fine of ten million galleons to the Repair, Rehabilitation and Reconstruction Foundation."

Draco blinked at the large amount, but otherwise found himself nodding along eagerly with Kingsley's declaration. He finally allowed a smile to stretch his lips. He had plenty of money to spare, but his freedom did not come with a price tag. Kingsley smiled more warmly than he had ever seen.

"The Wizengamot hopes that you will take this second chance at life you have been given and make the most of it, Mister Malfoy."

"Th…thank you," he stammered a bit foolishly, unable to exhibit more eloquence under the circumstances. A wild flashing of photography interrupted the moment of eerie calmness, and found himself wincing as the lights dazzled him and the roaring of many voices yelled out for a statement. The sensory overload almost drowned him.

But he ignored it all in favour of sinking into the sudden embrace of his mother who, sobbing uncontrollably, had leapt forwards and encased him tightly in her arms. He gripped her small body firmly to his chest, holding on for dear life. She felt so small in his arms now that he towered over her these days, and he leaned down to rest his head on her blonde hair at the top of her head. Behind her he could see Hermione crying quietly into Potter's shoulder as he held her in a mirrored embrace. When she looked up, he could see that she was grinning in delirious relief and he smiled too.

"Mister Malfoy, how do you respond to allegations that you bribed your way to freedom?"

"Do you have any comment on what your position would be if You-Know-Who returned again?"

"Is Harry Potter under the imperius curse?"

"What is your official statement in response to this rather lenient ruling?"

"Did you kill your own father?"

"What will you do now?"

Draco studiously ignored all the raucous noise bouncing around the room. The Wizengamot, having completed their task, were starting to disperse and make their way towards the exits. One or two of them stopped to give statements to the press, but otherwise they kept their heads down and didn't even bother to make eye contact with him. He didn't mind though. He finally got his mother to calm down and stop weeping into his chest. Pushing her backwards from him gently to create a little space, he wiped a couple of stray tears from her cheeks and gifted her with a wide, open smile.

"I'm free," he croaked, feeling like his heart would beat so fast it might just burst right out of his chest.

"You're free," his mother echoed with a watery smile.

As the crowd of people pressed in on him, Draco caught Hermione's eye at last and she gave him such a beautiful look of happiness that it took his breath away. Their gazes held for a timeless moment, insensate to any of the chaos going on around them. He felt his mouth go dry as all the possibilities of his freedom from prison flickered through his mind. Kingsley had been right; this was his second chance. And as he stared at Hermione Granger with a hunger that almost crippled him, he resolved to take every advantage of it. He turned again to his mother who was looking up at him with affectionate understanding. When he spoke this time it was with a slightly breathless tone of anticipation.

"Let's go home."

….

….

As her eyes darted around the ministry atrium, Hermione rubbed her chest impatiently, feeling a familiar burning sensation just behind her ribs. She stumbled behind a bit as their small party laughed merrily on their way towards the floo station. She knew from the gleam in Draco's eyes that he was desperate to get home and get settled back in with his creature comforts. And she could hardly blame him. He must be dying for a proper shower, since she was sure that the meagre ones she had managed to gain him were probably less than ideal.

Walking distractedly around the scaffolding, which was jutting out from the newly renovated fountain in the atrium, Hermione pursed her lips in frustration. Beside her, Theo was jokingly listing all the different types of self-cleaning Draco would be able to accomplish now that he was out of prison. Harry, on the other hand, was reminding him about different types of food he had probably missed. In front, Narcissa was just smiling indulgently, a warm motherly glow illuminating her features. She kept glancing at her son as if to reassure herself that he was really there and this wasn't a dream.

A small part of Hermione's imagination had foolishly hoped that if Draco was acquitted then the life debt might diminish or go away altogether. It was a pretty big deal, after all. She wasn't sure he would have been so successful or survived so long without her help. But it was still there. In fact, as they had piled into the elevator to bring them up here, the sensation had flared up until it was almost unbearable. She didn't want to alarm anybody, but it was clear something strange had just started happening to her. It wasn't just the pain in her chest that bothered her. It was the oppressive feel of magic that was almost vibrating under her skin like a ticking clock. She clawed unconsciously at her arm, feeling her fine hairs standing on end.

No one else seemed to notice her turmoil.

The steady beat of her heart soon became a rapid pounding, and breathing in suddenly felt like the scraping of coarse gravel against her lungs. Hermione looked around in a panic. What was happening to her? She hadn't gotten any closer to Draco today; they had not shared any deeper intimacies or even spoken much at all. So why was she feeling like she might fall to the floor in a convulsion of limbs?

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on the feeling of magic coursing through her veins. It was like an extension of her body, she realised. As though it was a part of her, but was fighting against something deep within her. She opened her eyes again as a tightening began to take hold of her throat, as if there was a hand slowly squeezing the life out of her. She stopped moving altogether and desperately tried to suck some air into her lungs with a ragged gasp.

 _Oh Merlin, I'm going to die right in the middle of the Ministry of Magic…_ she thought suddenly, grasping at her throat. Their little group paused in their brisk walk when they realised that she had frozen in place a few steps behind them.

Her eyes flew to Draco as he looked back at her with concern. His brow furrowed and he stepped towards her hurriedly.

"Hermione?"

A few things happened at once, so fast that Hermione barely had time to think. She was choking and spluttering for air like a woman drowning. Her vision blurred for a brief second before returning to her with a sharpness that surprised her. She heard Harry call her name as if he were standing at a great distance, his green eyes fixed on her as she struggled.

Then she saw the shadow.

It was a figure dressed in regular ministry garb, but the robes were all black, and a bowler hat was tilted low over the face to cover him from view. But something had drawn her to watch him. She didn't know why she had spotted him, but her face had suddenly turned deliberately in his direction as he moved leisurely towards them, as if she were under the imperius. Her eyes, wide open now, were burning with the same quivering magic as the rest of her body.

The figure moved.

The man tilted his head upwards and materialised into her view as he came closer. She recognised him. How could she forget such a face? He had been one of the Death Eaters who attacked them in London after Bill and Fleur's wedding. Thorfinn Rowle. His deadened, almost ghostly, gaze was fixed unblinkingly on Draco. The blond boy was turning towards Harry to ask him something, a question about _her_ probably. He didn't even notice the threat to him until it was too late. Rowle's lips curled until she could see a line of crooked, yellow teeth. He was smiling with menacing triumph. He drew a dagger out of his robes. For a very brief moment of insanity, Hermione wondered idly why he did not have a wand. If she had been holding her own wand she could have easily disarmed him. But it was too late for that. He lifted his arm and brought it down hard through the air. As if in a trance, Hermione felt herself launch forwards, her hand tingling in regret at not being able to reach for her wand and cast a defensive spell in time. She skidded forwards to stand in front of Draco, blocking him from the attack.

If she had been in full control of her senses, she would have expected some pain or a struggle, but since it happened so quickly it all came as a complete shock. Although her arms were raised protectively, he was too strong and his thrust too powerful. She managed to deflect the knife but only minutely. It slipped to the side where it buried itself in her chest just above her right breast and below her shoulder.

Hermione was not inexperienced with enduring pain, but that didn't make it any easier. She heard a scream but didn't realise it came from her until she felt the raw scratching in her throat from releasing it.

Dimly she became aware of a few strange details around her as her vision clouded once more. With black spots starting to invade her sight, she tried desperately to list them to herself.

Harry efficiently stunning Rowle faster than she could have thought possible.

People turning in alarm to stare at the scene unfolding.

Shouts for help.

And then the colour of the ceiling far above as her knees gave way and she collapsed to the floor.

Strong arms supporting her and lowering her gently to the marble.

Being cradled against a warm chest.

And finally a pair of silvery grey eyes wide open and panicked, staring down at her in shock.

" _Hermione-_ "

She saw his lips form her name frantically but she couldn't hear it. A thin strand of blond hair flopped over his forehead.

And then everything went black.

….

 **Okay, this is definitely my worst cliff hanger yet! I can only apologise profusely for any pain caused. A whole lot of plot happened in this chapter. What did you think? What will happen now? Your reviews are so greatly appreciated!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

 **I am such a dramaholic. I apologise for my very cruel ending to the last chapter. Your reviews were most urgent in seeking answers. Those answers are imminent. As always, JKR crafts the magic, I just borrow it temporarily.**

 **….**

The world spiralled around Draco as his feet pounded against the gravel. His lungs were burning from the strain of sprinting. He was not conscious of anything except the blurring of colours, the sound of his own panting, and the frantic screaming inside his mind. Vaguely he was aware of the crunching of footsteps behind him, mirroring his own urgent rhythm, but he did not bother to turn back and check that they were keeping up with him. This had been Potter's suggestion anyway. He would know where to follow.

As the grey shadow of Hogwarts castle loomed up in front of them, Draco quickened his pace. The tall spires of each tower rose up so high before him that their tips were lost in the foggy tempests rolling in from over the lake. He clutched his precious bundle closer to his chest, protecting her from the bitter chill of the gale battering and bruising them from the north. Draco's thoughts were in such turmoil, he almost stumbled on a loose pebble. He probably should have been more aware of his surroundings, seeing as he had been trapped inside the claustrophobic hell of his prison cell for months. But all he could feel was pure, unadulterated panic.

'What the hell happened?' he thought wildly.

 _There was a menacing flash of silver that glinted in the corner of his eye. He started to turn. But before he could even really register the enraged gleam of a dagger coming towards him, his senses were filled with her perfume. Hermione's curls swept in front of him so close he felt a few strands brush his cheek as she lunged forwards. He heard the gasp sucked from her lungs first in shock and then cut short as the blade was buried in her. Draco trembled violently on the spot. His arms jerked forwards to support her as she fell to the floor. He was in such a state of shock he didn't even think to retrieve his newly returned wand. He wasn't even looking up at Thorfinn Rowle, whose sadistic grin was wiped from his face by the red blast of a stunner. He thought it might have been Potter, but he wasn't sure._

 _"Hermione?"_

 _His mind refused to believe what had just happened. She was fine. She had to be fine. He cradled her to his chest and turned her body so that he could see her properly. The knife was lodged deep in her chest just underneath her shoulder. The hilt looked black and angry, bathed in red blood that continued to seep from the wound like a gurgling brook. Hermione took a rattling, choking breath._

 _"HERMIONE?"_

 _It looked as though she tried to say something, but all that came out was a whine, hoarsened by froth-corrupted lungs. Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly as she tried to stay conscious. He kept calling her name but she wasn't even able to focus on him anymore. It only took a second for her body to slacken and become completely limp in his arms._

 _The yelling of voices around them increased in pitch and urgency. But he was numb to all of them. The only one that managed to break through the mist of disbelief and horror was Potter's._

 _"We have to get her to Hogwarts! The Hospital wing!"_

Draco had nodded in agreement, not even pausing to wonder why they would go to the castle instead of St Mungo's. He hoisted Hermione up as if she weighed no more than a leaf and apparated directly to the grounds.

Which was where he found himself now. He was racing up the front steps where the slightly stunned but familiar figure of Madame Pomfrey was waiting for them. She was escorted by a silvery shape, which vanished a moment later; he recognised it as his mother's patronus. She must have sent on a warning ahead. As the adrenalin thrumming through his veins began to dissipate and he recovered from the shock, Draco finally started to feel the aching in his arms. Although she weighed very little, he had carried her too far by himself and with too much haste. He staggered up the steps and let Pomfrey scoop up Hermione in her levitating stretcher.

"She was stabbed! She lost consciousness about five minutes ago…"

He was out of breath and could barely wheeze out his explanation. But Pomfrey just nodded brusquely, her manner stern and professional, just like he remembered. If she was at all curious about the strange group of past students who descended upon her, then she kept it well hidden. They were beckoned inside hurriedly behind the stretcher that was now gliding full speed in front. By the time they made it to the Hospital Wing, Draco's panic had escalated to the point where the storm of emotions was threatening to overwhelm him.

He stood stupidly to one side as Pomfrey rested Hermione on a free bed and started examining the wound where the dagger had been thrust, as well as her vital signs.

 _Please Merlin…_

He shuffled nervously from one foot to the other, feeling helpless. A warm hand slipped down and grasped his. It was his mother. She gave him a gentle squeeze. Potter had positioned himself on the other side of the bed. If his own expression resembled Potter's in any small way, then he must look dreadful. The other boy was staring desolately down at his friend, his face crumpled in a rictus of misery. Draco could only feel the most acute sympathy. His own mind was swimming with frenzied questions.

Why hadn't he seen the dagger sooner?

Why hadn't he recognised Rowle?

How had Hermione known what was going to happen? She had acted so fast he wondered dryly whether she was a seer after all, despite Trelawny's constant disapproval of her. But the most pressing question on his mind was the one that gave him the most torment.

 _Why did she do it?_

She had thrown herself in front of him, using her own body – her own _life_ – to protect him. It was too much. He almost couldn't breathe. He had no idea how to even begin to process this shock, which had passed through his system like an electric bolt of terror. His thoughts turned almost unwillingly to that moment in the final battle when he had saved her life in the Room of Requirement. But he had to bite into his tongue at the memory. The metallic tang of blood trickled down his throat. He had merely saved her when the opportunity arose. _She_ had just thrown her own life in front of his. It was impossible to understand her sacrifice given his current state of disbelief. All he knew was that she had to survive.

He watched with wide eyes, which were stinging and bloodshot, as Pomfrey tried to cast _enervate_ several times _._ His eyes were fixed on Hermione's face awaiting her response, but she remained motionless. Her expression was almost peaceful.

"Why isn't she waking up?" he demanded hoarsely.

"She's lost too much blood," Pomfrey murmured gently, summoning some potions. Draco was brushed to the side as the medi-witch got to work casting charms and feeding her potions. But through all this she did not regain consciousness. It seemed like hours later, but was probably only thirty minutes, that Pomfrey took a deep breath and pushed her own damp hair off her forehead. She looked tired, but resolved.

"Okay, I'm going to remove the knife now," she said in almost a whisper. Draco felt his scalp aching, and he realised that he had been clenching his hair tightly in his fingers. He released the roots and lowered his hands to his sides, but they were trembling. He couldn't help noticing that the normally composed medi-witch was looking rather apprehensive about what she had to do now.

"Wait! Is she going to be okay?" he asked with a groan of agitation, feeling a pain deep within his gut that almost made him want to vomit.

"There's no way to know at this point while the-"

" _Will she be alright?_ " he asked again, louder this time. He didn't care that he was being rude, he just needed to know. Pomfrey looked at him in shock.

"Mister Malfoy, I can assure you I am doing my best-"

"Why is she still unconscious? What will happen when you remove it? Why won't you tell us?"

He gave each demand more belligerently and loudly than the last. The panic that he had been trying desperately to repress in his pursuit to get Hermione somewhere safe was beginning to spill forth erratically. He just needed to know that she was alive and that she would recover. His sanity depended on it.

"I think you should step outside," Madame Pomfrey instructed sternly, giving him a wary look up and down. Draco immediately opened his mouth to argue. He absolutely did not want to leave Hermione's side.

"I'm not going anywhere-"

"Out!" she commanded, "Both of you!"

Potter spluttered in surprise at being included.

"Why me?"

"I remember the two of you boys at school together. I don't need any more trouble in my Hospital Wing while I'm trying to save the poor girl's life."

Draco's face became flushed and he prickled with outrage. Pomfrey continued with determination.

"Narcissa, you may stay and assist if you can follow my instructions."

He was about to protest more vigorously, when he felt a steady hand on his shoulder.

"Come on," Potter murmured, though he didn't sound happy about it.

Draco allowed himself to be pulled away gently, feeling unexpectedly speechless. He wanted to rebel against this unfair order, but then he remembered all the times he and Potter had injured each other and consequently ended up in this very room. He could hardly blame the woman given his history here. She probably thought they were going to engage in some kind of reckless duel like they sometimes had when they were younger. As he started to back away, he looked at Hermione's face one last time. She appeared as if she were merely sleeping. He tried to memorize every detail of her beautiful features. Even though her skin was pallid and lips almost tinged blue from blood loss, he still felt a sharp pang of yearning for her. To hold her close and protect her from this pain. Eventually Potter managed to cajole him out of sight and away from the hospital wing.

A weak, miserable part of him couldn't help despairing that it might be the last time he ever saw her alive.

….

….

Harry watched over the other boy with concern. He patted the blond on the back a few times bracingly as the Slytherin emptied the meagre contents of his stomach into the nearest garden bed.

"You alright?" he asked as Malfoy just retched and wiped his mouth, nothing of substance left in him to force its way out. He stayed hunched over though, his eyes clenched shut as if in pain. He understood the other boy's feelings perfectly in that moment. He wanted to be sick as well. The sweet, metallic scent of Hermione's blood seemed to cling to him even after they'd left. It was too horrible to think about. His mind's eye was burned with the image of his friend lying so prone and frail as her blood stained the crisp hospital sheets. It would be imprinted into his worst memories forever.

"No I'm not alright," Malfoy croaked, and Harry nodded in understanding. When he was sure that the other boy wasn't going to collapse, he sat himself down heavily on the top step. He buried his head in his hands for a moment, rubbing his face in disbelief and distress. He felt completely helpless. There was nothing he could do to save his friend now. She was in the hands of a higher power. Harry wondered vaguely whether she was biding her time somewhere like in Kings Cross where he found himself the time he wandered that line between life and death. Both boys were silent for a long time. Malfoy remained standing, pacing furiously back and forth while Harry just sat glumly. Eventually it seemed the confusion was eating away at the blond boy too much. He spun towards the steps in distress.

"What the bloody hell happened back there, Potter?"

Harry watched him cautiously for a moment. Malfoy's face was screwed up in total agony. He let out a sigh.

"It was Thorfinn Rowle. He was trying to kill you."

"Yes, I realise that!" the boy spat, "Did you stun him?"

"I did," Harry admitted. He watched the other boy carefully as he started to pace again. His steps were so heated he was wearing the gravel thin beneath his feet.

"Why would Rowle attack me right in the middle of the ministry?" Malfoy muttered almost under his breath.

"He must have heard that there was a chance you would be released," Harry mused quietly. Malfoy shook his head, his brows furrowed. He wiped a shaking hand over his face.

"But I don't understand. I thought he had escaped and was in Russia or somewhere like that, last I heard…"

Harry squirmed a bit, thinking of poor Hermione lying in there bleeding to death. It was all his fault. He had been the one following up on those threats. But it hadn't been enough. His heart ached so sharply he had to close his eyes briefly. Finally he opened them at met Malfoy's questioning gaze with a shiver of anxiety.

"Well, he had been sending death threats to your mother," he confessed in a half-whisper. Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks. He stared back at Harry in horror.

"He _what?_ "

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably and explained,

"Your mother has been receiving some threatening letters the last couple of months. The aurors ignored it at first. But then I put in a word with Kingsley and we had just started to investigate… it must have been Rowle. He made reference to the Malfoys conspiring with blood traitors and muggleborns. We thought maybe he meant Hermione and my support for you in the trial."

"And no one thought to tell me this?" he yelled.

Harry winced.

"We thought you had enough on your plate. And there was nothing you could do from prison. Your mother insisted."

The other boy shook his head in disbelief. He dropped down onto the stone next to Harry and wrapped his arms around himself. He was shivering.

"She saved my life," he croaked weakly.

Harry looked away, staring down at the black lake and wincing. The implications of Hermione throwing herself in front of the Slytherin had hardly escaped his notice. He had no idea if she had done so willingly or not. Remembering that split second where he had seen her getting stabbed, he thought maybe there had been something glassy about her eyes. Had the debt compelled her to do it?

But most importantly, if she survived, would the debt finally be absolved?

Harry took in a deep, shuddering breath. He didn't even want to consider the alternative, which was her _not_ surviving.

Their mutual brooding was interrupted by the crunching of the gravel path a few metres in front of them, and both boys peered up to see Theodore Nott striding towards them and out of breath.

"Draco?" the boy asked in concern, rushing up to his friend and squatting down to check him over, "Are you alright?" he pressed, running his eyes over his friend. Harry noticed the way Malfoy brushed away his worry tiredly.

"I'm fine, Theo."

"Where's Granger? Is she…"

Malfoy shook his head and gave a pitiful shrug.

"Pomfrey is working on her. We were kicked out."

Theo looked puzzled, but eventually nodded.

"You both don't exactly have a good track record with her. What about Graner? She didn't look good-" he began.

"Yes I realise that," Malfoy muttered, his hands curling up into white-knuckled fists. Harry flinched in sympathy.

"What happened after we left?" Harry asked the Slytherin boy with some trepidation, knowing that he had stayed behind to help the aurors get control of the situation.

"They took him into custody," Theo explained heavily, remaining standing before them, "Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived just after you all disappeared. He was livid. He ordered Rowle to be interrogated to find out whether he was working with anyone else or had any other conspirators. I think he might come here next to check up on Granger."

Harry nodded slowly.

"That's understandable. Kingsley is terribly fond of Hermione…"

Even though he meant it as a comment on how easy it was for people to feel real affection for his clever friend, he couldn't help observing Draco's scowl. Theo obviously noticed it too, for he gave a soft smirk.

"Hermione seems to be quite close to Shacklebolt-" the blond boy murmured bitterly under his breath. Harry rolled his eyes.

"You shouldn't complain. If she didn't have the minster wrapped around her little finger then you might still be rotting in prison, you know," he snapped. Theo shook his head, his smirk widening.

"You'll have to forgive Draco, he's always been the dreadfully jealous sort. Even when we were kids…"

"Theo," Malfoy warned with a growl. Harry just shook his head in disbelief at the bizarre conversation. At least it was distracting him from the horrible wait ahead of them. He scratched at his nose awkwardly as the blond Slytherin glared at his friend. Theo sobered a bit and shrugged.

"Well you can hardly doubt her loyalty to you after this," he commented with surprising solemness, "After what she did…"

All three boys went silent at this. Harry's heart thudded unpleasantly at the reminder. He didn't think he had ever been more proud or more angry at his friend than right now. Harry had suffered from a lot of loss in his life so far. Too many people close to him had met violent ends. But if _Hermione_ became one of those people… he wasn't sure what he would do. She was his family, even more than Sirius or Remus had ever been. She was his sister. He hadn't always loved her as devotedly as he did now; sometimes as a boy he had taken advantage of her goodness and her fidelity to him, much to his personal shame. But now he hoped he was mature enough to realise that _she_ was the true hero. He never would have survived the war if it hadn't been for her constancy. Malfoy was obviously experiencing a similar level of inner torment. He jumped to his feet and started pacing again.

"I can't…" he began, before his voice broke and he paused in his strides. He took a tremulous breath and tried again, "I don't know what happened. Why would she do that?"

He directed the question at Harry, who didn't know how to answer him, not without giving away Hermione's secret. He swallowed the dry lump in his mouth that tasted like ash and fear, and shook his head wordlessly. Theodore cleared his throat and looked at his friend warily, answering instead for Harry.

"She didn't seem…er…herself."

Malfoy frowned and spun towards his friend.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I was actually watching when it happened and I saw her face. She almost looked like she was sleep-walking!"

"What?"

"Her eyes were glazed over and she basically stumbled in front of you as if she wasn't in control of her feet. But then, maybe she was just scared. I don't know."

Malfoy stared intently at the ground for a long moment, his expression so anguished that Harry felt a strong twinge of sympathy for him. But then the boy's gaze rose to meet _his,_ and he shifted nervously on the step where he sat.

"You don't seem surprised."

Harry's brows rose in bemusement.

"Excuse me?"

Malfoy sneered at him, the look all too familiar on his pale, pointed features. He pointed a finger angrily at Harry.

"Your best friend just launched herself in front of someone you've always hated and took a knife for him-" his voice cracked again, "-and now she's fighting for her life! Theo says she wasn't in control! And you just sit there, accepting it. Why? What else is going on that you're not telling me?"

Harry blinked a few times. He knew he really should tell Malfoy about the life debt, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not yet. He had no idea what he was dealing with here, or how the debt would have reacted.

"I need to get Flitwick," he realised suddenly, saying the words to himself in a hushed murmur, but it was loud enough for the other boys to hear.

"What? Why?"

Harry rose to his feet, his knees feeling weak. If Flitwick knew what had happened and had more experience with these kinds of charms, then maybe he could help with her recovery. Any slim chance would be better than none. And he wasn't sure he wanted to sit out here just waiting anymore. He had to act somehow.

"I have to go-" he declared, spinning around to make his way back up the steps. A firm hand grasped his arm to stop him.

"What's Flitwick got to do with this?" Malfoy demanded, his expression furious.

"If…if she was under some kind of spell then he could help."

Malfoy looked at him with bewilderment. He didn't seem to understand what he was saying, which was just as well. Not stopping to bother explaining it to the blond boy, Harry wrenched his arm away and began sprinting up through the entrance hall and into the castle. He knew the tiny charms professor had been working in the south tower recently, so that was where he headed. He heard the thumping of footsteps behind him but didn't bother to turn around. He knew the two Slytheins would have followed him, but as long as they didn't get in his way he didn't really care.

He just knew that he needed to do something, _anything,_ or he would go mad.

…

…

There was fogginess all around her. Dense clouds of blackness kept her shrouded like a blanket from the world; wrapped tightly around her and always shrinking. She tried to open her eyelids, but they felt heavy and swollen. She couldn't remember where she was or even who she was. What was her name, she wondered? The answers teased the edge of her mind, dangling just out of reach. She reached towards the darkness, but it was cold and she drew away in fear.

The numbness became oppressive. All she could really focus on was the necessity of breathing in and out. In and out. In and out.

The other sensation she was aware of was a tingling that seemed to run through her whole body. It started at the very tips of her fingers, and buried itself deep inside her chest like a second heartbeat. She wondered if that was what was making her so lethargic. It felt like it was draining her. But as she closed her eyes and focused on the feeling, which was her only companion in the darkness, it began to fade. She desperately clenched her fists and bowed her body trying to hold it in, but it kept escaping in a steady trickle. Her limbs jerked and shuddered in relief as it finally left her with a cleansing surge. But then she was all alone. Her mind suck back into icy numbness. If she concentrated she could almost feel a warm weight holding her down, restraining her, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. It struck her that they might be hands, keeping her still as she thrashed. Did that mean she _wasn't_ dead? She had been so sure that this was what dying felt like. She started to let herself sink back into the nothingness when another jolt occurred.

" _Is that Hermione? What happened?_ " the voice suddenly broke through her trance. She tried to figure out why it was so memorable but her mind felt raw and sluggish. It was a soft, feminine voice and it somehow soothed her. Other voices joined in, cluttering her mind with noise.

 _"Just hear me out first!"_

 _"We're not leaving again-"_

 _"I thought I told you both to wait outside-"_

 _"If you'll forgive the intrusion, Poppy, I believe I must run some small detection charms on Miss Granger."_

 _"She's not stable!"_

 _"Has she woken up yet?"_

 _"You have to let the professor examine her."_

 _"She's my patient!"_

 _"Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?"_

The last voice seemed to penetrate through the haze. It was husky and panicked and so familiar.

 _"Draco darling, calm down-_ "

 _"Not until I know what's wrong with her!"_

The pieces lodged together like a ham-fisted puzzle, falling into place with jarring force. The voices became not just familiar, but recognisable. The picture of their faces swam across her mind, blurred at the edges but crystallising with every second that they spoke.

She knew she had to try and open her eyes.

 _Have courage,_ she told herself sternly.

Gathering her strength, her lashes fluttered weakly but her eyes felt so puffy and unco-operative. A little moan escaped her. She could feel it whisper past her lips. Her senses were returning to her rapidly. Although it felt like she was half floating through the darkness still, she slowly became aware of the soft cushion of the mattress underneath her back. It was swathed in crisp cotton and smelled faintly of the acrid tang of healing potions. With each attempt to open her eyes she got a little bit closer to succeeding. Perhaps the twitching of her eyelids was visible, or her moans had become suddenly louder, because all the talking in the room stopped abruptly.

" _Hermione?"_

Finally she saw pinpricks of white light speckle through her lashes. The ceiling above her was just a blur at first. Then faces began to appear before her. They were crowded around her bed, but she could not identify each one for a while as she tossed her head back and forth in delirium.

"Hermione?"

Her gaze was finally able to focus on the pair of silvery eyes closest to her. They were shining and red as if he had been crying.

"Draco?" she mumbled, but her voice was husky and broken.

"Thank merlin," he breathed, and she vaguely felt his fingers stroking the skin of her cheek.

Drawing herself further away from the mist towards the harsh light of day, Hermione tensed her stomach muscles to try and sit upright towards those familiar, relieved eyes. But when she went to lift herself, a burning pain consumed her, radiating out from the wound in her shoulder. She felt a trickle of blood dampen the bandage wrapped around it. Throwing her head back and groaning through her teeth, she collapsed fully onto the bed as Madame Pomfrey bustled around and cast an anaesthetic charm on the centre of her chest to keep the worst of the pain at bay.

"Don't try and move, Miss Granger. You've suffered a serious injury. Lie nice and still for me. Good girl."

She nodded, still grinding her jaw together and panting as the feeling faded. When she opened her eyes again she looked around at the small gathering of people. Their faces were all painted with the same look of concern in a way that would have been comical if she hadn't felt so horribly weak. There was Draco nearest to her, with Narcissa, Harry, Professor Flitwick, Madame Pomfrey and Lavender Brown all encircling the bed behind him. The blond boy sitting propped close to her on the bed looked exhausted and fraught with tension. His whole body was stiff and his face screwed up in fear. Hermione licked her lips and tried to smile at him, but her stubborn mouth wouldn't co-operate. Although her eyes had lingered longest on Draco, wishing she had the strength to reach out to him, she quickly became distracted. Her gaze moved to Professor Flitwick and she swallowed against the burning sensation scalding her on the back of her tongue.

"Professor Flitwick…" she managed to croak, and she even raised her fingers weakly to beckon him closer.

"Hello my dear. How are you feeling?"

She ignored his question in favour of taking a deep breath and grimacing, half in hope, half in dread.

"Is it gone?"

The squat little man conjured a wooden stool as he brushed past everyone and mounted it to stand by her side. He cast his eye quickly over her body and her wound.

"Professor Flitwick, do you not have faith in my skills as a medi-witch?" Pomfrey asked him a bit waspishly, folding her arms over her chest in clear resentment of how she had just been pushed aside from caring for the patient.

Flitwick smiled charmingly at the old matron, giving her a courteous little bow.

"Not at all, Poppy! But I confess I do have some prior experience with Miss Granger's…um… _condition._ "

Pomfrey's eyes widened, along with three of the other occupants of the cubicle.

"There's nothing on her records to suggest that she has any existing health concerns that might interfere with her recovery."

"Not all magic can be filed on a medical record, Poppy."

The others seemed equally stunned as the poor medi-witch, whose records had never been found with any error or insufficiency in her entire career. Hermione's eyes just continued to droop tiredly through it all, their voices a bit distant to her. She was determined to stay awake though, until she knew for sure that the debt was no longer there.

"We'll explain later," Harry promised with a sheepish shrug, exchanging a look with both Hermione and Narcissa. The older woman pursed her lips and nodded in agreement. She could tell that Draco was becoming agitated by them all being so enigmatic. She knew he hated being in the dark. But now was certainly not the right time.

"Can you feel it?" the Professor asked her quietly, his voice high-pitched but strangely comforting.

"No. Should I?" she replied just as softly. She looked deep inside her, seeking that familiar vibration of magic but finding nothing. It felt strange to be so empty when she had become used to the feeling of the debt swaddling her like a thick wintery cloak for months. Flitwick reached out and laid his wiry hand against her forehead. He closed his eyes for a full minute as his hand rested there. Then he summoned his wand from his belt and cast a few spells, waving it over her body.

"Hmmm," he hummed almost to himself, "there doesn't seem to be anything else weakening you physically or magically aside from your stab wound, which Poppy appears to have healed very successfully."

Hermione nodded.

"But we couldn't always detect it before either," she reminded him hoarsely, and he nodded solemnly, considering her with his head cocked curiously to one side.

"True. However, if what you sent me from that book is true, it should present itself more clearly through certain symptoms when you're in his company."

"If you mean the pain, then it's a bit hard to distinguish at the moment. I seem to be in pain all over."

"It might just take time before we can tell-"

"No. I don't' want to wait."

Hermione's jaw clenched nervously and her eyes drifted over to Draco. He looked desolate. His hands were gripping the sheet beneath him so hard she was worried he would rip the material.

Knowing that there was only really one way of knowing for sure, she took a deep breath to rally her strength and then reached out. Gently, Hermione placed her hand on top of his. Her skin was cold, most likely from losing quite a lot of blood, and he felt so very warm and welcoming under her touch. Draco jerked in surprise at the contact, and shifted anxiously on the bed. He stared down at his hand and gulped visibly. But it took less than a second of shock for him to loosen his grip on the sheet and turn his hand over to clasp hers. They held onto each other, their thoughts roaming in different directions. Draco clearly felt only relief mingled with torture for what he had been forced to watch her endure. Whereas Hermione was frantically searching her body for any signs of pain or trembling that would indicate a return of the life debt.

But she felt nothing.

She had been so focused on looking inside herself that she actually gasped a bit in surprise when Draco lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers so tenderly she almost melted into the pillows beneath her. His eyes were closed as if he was saying a short prayer to the gods for her safe return. He kissed her knuckles again, rubbing a slow circle on the back of her hand with his thumb. This time she did manage a watery smile, made even warmer by the firm, definite knowledge she felt in the centre of her being that the life debt was gone. There was no doubt in her mind now. She was free. Free to love Draco the way that he loved her. The fact that this thought didn't even cause the twinge of discomfort that she was used to, was proof in and of itself.

 _"It's gone…"_ she whispered in awe, her eyes prickling at the wave of relief that washed over her.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked on her left. But she didn't seem able to answer him. This last burst of emotion and release from fear clearly used up the remainder of her dwindling energy. Her eyes drooped closed as her breathing evened out.

"She needs to rest, her body has a lot of healing to do-" She heard Pomfrey murmur to the rest of the room.

"Is she going to be okay?" Lavender asked in that soothing voice again.

"Yes, I believe she will recover quite well. But it may take time. And a lot of help."

"We will provide whatever care she needs, no matter the cost" Narcissa declared in a firm voice, "I absolutely insist."

Harry whispered his agreement and thanks. Any objections he may have had were irrelevant in the face of Narcissa's determination. Hermione was almost able to smile fondly as she drifted away. She felt herself slipping back into the darkness that had drowned her earlier, only this time it felt lighter somehow. She was able to breathe more deeply without feeling suffocated. She managed to blink her eyes open and peer up once more, meeting Draco's silvery gaze before she was lost completely to the blackness.

"It's gone, Draco," she whispered huskily, and felt him clench his hand around hers convulsively, "It's gone…"

"Shhh...just rest. I need you to get your strength back so I can yell at you about being so stupid!"

Hermione chuckled drowsily.

"I couldn't let him kill you," she sighed, hearing how her voice slurred tiredly.

"My brave little lioness," he murmured soothingly, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on her bottom lip, obviously uncaring of their audience. She almost heard Lavender muffle a little squeal of delight, but it sounded as if it were coming from a great distance. With the knowledge of both his and her freedom, and Draco's gentle words and lips caressing her so lovingly, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

….

….

Once the small group of visitors had closed the curtains and muffled Hermione's cubicle so that she could sleep in uninterrupted peace, Draco spun to face Potter. His previous tenderness had vanished in the face of the overwhelming rage that consumed him now as he looked at the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Tell me the truth, Potter. What happened to her?"

The cowardly scar-head actually took a step backwards away from him, shaking his head and raising his hands in a gesture of peace.

"It's really not my story to tell-"

" _Bullshit!_ You've been lying to me this whole time. Tell me now or I swear to Salazar I'll hex you right here," he had raised his voice throughout until he was yelling.

"Well then you'll have to hex me. I think that Hermione should be the one to tell you."

"Don't try to pretend you're so fucking noble, Potter. You've all been keeping secrets from me this entire time."

"That was Hermione's choice!"

"I don't care. It obviously involves me and I want to know. NOW!"

Narcissa tried to placate him by putting her hands on his arms and turning him around, but he shook her off angrily. She stumbled backwards.

" _No_ ," he whipped his wand out and pointed it in the boy's face. Months in prison had certainly dulled his reflexes, but feeling the wood gripped in his hand again felt so right, like one of his limbs had been returned to him, "What did she mean by 'it's gone'? What curse did she have? Who did this to her?"

Potter scowled at the tip of the wand thrust into his face. His cheeks flushed quickly with anger. The Chosen One had never been good at controlling his temper. The other people in the room waited on edge to see what would happen. Madame Pomfrey, fortunately, remained behind the charmed curtain, seeing to Hermione's comfort and pain as she slept. Otherwise she would have kicked them out again already.

"Who did this?" he repeated menacingly, hissing right in Potter's face, which he knew would goad him into a response.

" _YOU_ did!" Potter roared at last, batting the wand away from his face and holding up his own defensively. Draco blanched.

" _What?_ "

"You're the reason she's been unwell, and why she threw herself in front of Rowle's knife like she was half out of her mind! And why she was so terrified just now."

Draco shook his head in bewilderment. He raised his wand again and pointed it insistently.

"What are you talking about? She said that something was _gone!_ What's gone?"

"The Life Debt," Potter spat at last, his face having turned such a deep red that it was almost purple. As soon as the words had left his mouth, though, he dropped his arms limply to his sides and turned pale. Draco's mind went numb. The silence around them was chilling.

"The _what?_ "

"She has owed you a life debt ever since the Room of Requirement and it was slowly killing her!" Potter explained now in a tired, reluctant voice, realising he had said far too much already and not able to take it back.

Draco's thought were a blur as he tried to absorb what the other boy had just told him. Memories rose up so swiftly to the surface he felt dizzy.

 _Hermione visiting him in prison and seeing him in such a horrifying state._

 _Bringing him small gifts and trying to appease his every desire._

 _'This is just the debt,' she had moaned in despair when he kissed her that first time._

 _The lingering sting of her rejection._

 _Her insistence that they wait until after the trial to explore their feelings._

 _Clutching her chest breathlessly, her face scrunched up in pain after he kissed her again._

 _Narcissa's worried glances in her direction during the trial._

 _A stumbling body, adorned with curls, launching itself in front of him as the knife slashed through the air._

Draco reeled back in shock, staggering a couple of steps away from Potter. He stared at the other boy in horror as the realisation settled on him and all the pieces fell into place. The Chosen One had lowered his wand completely now, looking intensely regretful. He clenched his own fist tighter around his wand, his face screwing up in misery. He blinked a couple of times as the vision of Potter standing in front of him blurred somewhat.

And then, just because he didn't know what else to do with all the helpless fury and despair stewing inside him, he hexed Potter in the face anyway. Draco watched with no some small amount of satisfaction as the Boy-Who-Lived was thrown a few feet into the air and landed with a resounding thunk at the other end of the room right on his ass. He lowered his wand to the sound of several shocked gasps, his mind narrowing down to one single agonising thought.

 _Why didn't she tell me?_

 _…._

….

 **I had to stop it here or the chapter would have been enormous. Apologies. Next time I promise we will see the reaction between Hermione and Draco. Do not despair! Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think in some inspirational reviews.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

 **To atone for my very naughty cliff hangers I have updated sooner than usual. Also…Wow! For a bunch of people who adore Harry, you all seemed quite pleased when he was thrown across the room! Obviously we like to see Draco return to his previously snarly form.**

 **Lots of angst and fluff coming your way in this chapter. As always, JKR is the creative machine, I have just borrowed some of her cogs!**

Draco hadn't realised that he'd fallen asleep until a gentle hand on his shoulder stirred him out of his slumber. His mind was a bit foggy, so at first all he was aware of was being cocooned in warmth, his cheek pressed against crisp sheets. It took a few moments for him to remember where he was. He had been slumped over in a stiff wooden seat next to Hermione's hospital bed, his head lying on the mattress beside her. Dimly he realised he had drooled a bit onto the white sheet, and at some point their hands had become disconnected. He vaguely recalled feeling exhausted and overwrought and so he had gripped her hand tightly and watched her sleeping form by the dim haze of candlelight for what was probably hours into the night.

Draco's spine cracked in a couple of places as he sat up and stretched. After glancing over at Hermione's sleeping form, he turned reluctantly to whoever had intruded on his vigil and saw his mother watching him with a worried frown.

"Draco?" she whispered cautiously, looking him over to check if he was alright, "I thought you might like some proper food… You're so thin, darling."

Draco was about to refuse, worried that any food would just taste like ash on his tongue at this point, but then he hesitated. As if in protest, his stomach grumbled insistently and he thought of the weeks he had suffered through eating bland prison meals, sloshed onto a grimy plate with nothing but a slightly acrid glass of water to wash it down. Aside from Hermione's gifts and the occasional hurried meals at the ministry during the trial, his taste buds had been subjected to an onslaught of mushy, stale slop for months now. He took a deep breath and eventually nodded.

"That would be nice," he admitted huskily and his mother smiled softly at him. She wandered back over to the other end of the wing where he saw a house elf in Hogwarts uniform waiting eagerly for instructions. Draco lowered himself back into his chair stiffly, wondering why he hadn't bothered to transfigure the wooden monstrosity into something more comfortable earlier. He couldn't do it now, of course. When Madame Pomfrey had realised what had happened between him and Potter right under her nose earlier that day, she had immediately confiscated both their wands. Potter seemed particularly reluctant to hand his over, but this was something Draco was used to now. And the strict medi-witch was nowhere near as bad as his old friend the prison warden when it came to seizing possessions. After how tirelessly she had worked on Hermione to heal her and relieve her pain, he certainly wasn't going to complain as long as he was allowed to stay by her side. He regretted his previous reluctance to come here when Potter had first suggested it. But then, he hadn't realised at the time that the Gryffindor had an ulterior motive and was desperate to seek help from the old Charms master as well as Pomfrey.

Draco sighed and leaned back in the chair with an unpleasant popping of his joints. He rubbed his hands over his face wearily, before sitting back to resume his silent observation of Hermione. In sleep, her face was completely slack, her expression transformed into an image of repose so peaceful he was envious. His own mind was swamped with a chaotic barrage of thoughts and doubts that had been eating away at him until he felt hollow inside. Keeping watch over Hermione was the only thing that seemed to soothe his frayed nerves. He was extremely grateful he had not missed being by her side when she woke up. Although she was still frozen in the same position she had been in for hours, her chocolate curls spilling over the pillow beneath her, he was determined to remain with her now.

Immediately following the confrontation with Potter earlier in the day, Draco had found himself striding across the grounds away from her, his hands clenched in agitation and his mood bleak. He had wound his way around the edge of the black lake unconsciously, kicking rocks out of his way as he went and breathing rapidly. It wasn't until he tripped over a branch strewn across the rugged path that he had realised his sight was clouded with tears that he refused to let fall. Pushing himself off scraped knees, he had wiped at his eyes furiously. For a while he had tried to deny what Potter had told him. Surely the other boy had been mistaken or even lying. But it did explain a lot of pieces of the puzzle that Hermione had posed for him over the last couple of months; things that had gnawed at him during many of their interactions. So many lingering questions could be resolved with this claim, although hundreds more arose in their place.

Eventually Draco had sunk to the ground and sat on the edge of the lake, staring out at the icy depths and letting the feeling of desolation wash over him fully.

 _A life debt…_

He had pondered over this for a long time, remembering how he had saved Hermione's life all those months ago during the battle; it felt like an age had passed since then. He had changed so dramatically and endured so much that it was almost as if it had happened to someone else.

Then he had recalled her first few visits to the prison, her generosity and compassion during those weeks. Despite everything he had now learned, he still treasured those moments when she melted the cold exterior he had drawn around himself so quickly he had been in the middle of it all before he even knew it had begun. Falling in love with such haste was surely a sign that he was emotionally unstable or morbidly desperate for affection. But at the time he hadn't really cared.

And finally he had let himself dwell despairingly on the times when they had acted on those feelings. When he had kissed her. Potter had claimed that the life debt was killing her. With a wince of recognition for the ache that was throbbing insistently against his temples, he remembered the way she had seemed so panicked after that first kiss. Then later, she had looked anxious and discomfited. He was reminded of the way she had rubbed her chest like she was being pierced by something sharp.

 _All this time, I kept pushing her, trying to get her to accept my love. And the whole time she was in pain…_

Draco hung his head between his knees, running his fingers through his hair with a groan of shame. He lifted his gaze wearily to look at Hermione's face again. His eyes flickered to her lips, curvy and inviting even though they were cracked from dehydration without the relief of water for hours. Kissing her had been magnificent, he recalled with a tender smile. And yet now he was questioning everything. It was most likely that Hermione didn't have those kinds of feelings for him at all; he was certain hers did not equal the intensity of his. Of course, she had admitted that she cared for him, but Hermione cared about everyone. And if it really was the life debt that had forced her to become so devoted to him against her will, then it seemed he had no hope.

 _She never liked me,_ he told himself sternly, _it was just the debt making her act like this to try and repay me. She won't want anything to do with me now._

At this point, as it did earlier, Draco's mind turned to the last fragment of distress that he had brooded over by the lake. He couldn't prevent the slight edge of bitterness from creeping into his gaze when he thought of how they had all kept this a secret from him. Hermione, Potter, even his own mother. Surely he had deserved to know. Why had they concealed it? Didn't they trust him? If what Theo had said was true, then the life debt had forced Hermione to sacrifice herself for him. It had made her quite literally throw herself in front of him and take a knife to the chest. He was overwhelmed by the conflicting feelings that swirled through his head at this.

Another warm hand jolted him out of his thoughts. Only this time, it came from the bed. Hermione was tossing her head from side to side, her eyelashes starting to flutter. Her fingers had twitched against his and he was quick to grasp onto them, his pulse racing. It didn't matter about the life debt, he realised. He loved her, and she had almost died because of him. Even if she woke up and confessed that she didn't return his affections, then he would still adore her regardless. He knew that loving her unrequitedly and from a distance would be absolute hell, and he wasn't sure how he would endure such torment, but it would not – _could not –_ diminish his feelings for her.

As she groaned and opened her eyes, Draco stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. He knew as soon as she blinked and saw him sitting there that she could immediately see the anguish on his face. He couldn't help it. His whole expression was screwed up in an expression of dread and misery. He took a deep breath, bracing himself as she woke up. Her eyes cleared and she rubbed her eyes indolently as she shuffled her body towards him.

"Hi," Hermione whispered, her voice weak and hoarse.

"Hello," Draco answered tightly. He watched warily as she twisted her body further towards him. She winced as her shoulder was jostled, and his throat convulsed in sympathy.

"Are you okay?" he stammered, but she just smiled softly at him, linking their fingers together on top of the blanket where he was still holding her hand.

"I'll be fine," she replied quietly after a while, before looking him up and down with a concerned frown, "But you look like hell," she added, "Have you been home yet?"

Draco shook his head and her eyes widened a bit in surprise.

"What? Draco…you've been stuck in that prison for months. Don't you want to get some proper sleep and have a shower…?"

He shook his head with a sad smile.

"I'm not going anywhere," he vowed, and her surprise visibly increased. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"You need to recover as well," she insisted, but he just grimaced.

"I'm not ready to leave you yet. I wasn't…I'm not sure how-" he sighed and trailed off. He had no idea how to bring up the life debt with her. She had just woken, it was the middle of the night and she looked strained and exhausted. Maybe now wasn't the right time. So instead he smirked and cocked his head to one side.

"I suppose you and Potter are competing for the most insufferable Gryffindor award this year. I can't decide which of you deserves it more. Self-sacrificing fools, the both of you!"

Hermione chuckled, though the sound was pitiful and she seemed to clench her teeth against a wave of pain.

"Ow, don't make me laugh!" she scolded weakly, "And besides, you shouldn't be trapped in here teasing me right now. You've just won your freedom, Draco! You should be out celebrating."

He shook his head with a grim laugh.

"True. But I want to celebrate with _you_ , and you're here. So I'm here."

Hermione beamed at him, although her eyelids were starting to droop again and she gave a slow, cat-like yawn.

"I'm so happy for you, Draco. I was so worried…"

He nodded, stroking his thumb in a circle over her hand.

"I know. But thanks to you, I'm never going back to that awful place."

"When I'm all better and Madame Pomfrey lets me leave, we'll have a proper celebration then. You deserve it. My treat!"

Draco squirmed a bit at her words. They sounded affectionate, but there was still that niggling doubt in his mind.

"You don't have to do that-" he started with a frown, but she waved her other hand dismissively.

"Nonsense. I _want_ to."

He drew in a shaky breath and held her gaze intently.

"Do you really?"

Hermione's brows furrowed in confusion at his tone. She blinked sleepily and observed him quietly for an impossibly long moment. He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. The longer she watched him, the more troubled she became.

"Draco…what's wrong?"

He dropped his head slightly, letting his blond locks fall over his eyes protectively. He realised his hand was trembling and felt her fingers clench onto it more tightly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't bring it up now. You just get some more rest and we'll talk in the morning. You look exhausted."

He noticed the way Hermione's bottom lip jutted slightly forwards in a stubborn pout. He knew that look all too well.

"Draco, please. What happened?"

He shrugged his shoulders awkwardly, his face scrunching up into a pained expression. He couldn't quite work up the courage to meet her eye. When he finally did, he was sure she could see the agony etched across all his features. He took a deep, rattling breath and clenched his teeth in determination.

"Hermione, I just…I'm…I want you to know that I won't hold it against you. You didn't just save my life. You brought me back to life from the brink of despair. I meant what I said last week. I am _always_ going to love you. I love you so much the very thought of what I'm about to say is agonising, and I feel physically ill saying it. But now that the… _debt_ is gone, if you want to be your old self again and if you want nothing to do with me, then I will respect your wishes."

Draco said the last part of his little speech to the floor. He had been going over in his mind what he would say ever since he had fallen numbly to the gravel by the black lake earlier that day. But actually saying it felt like he was reaching into his chest and ripping his heart into little splintered fragments.

His eyes shot up when Hermione tugged her hand hurriedly away from his. His skin felt bereft without her touch. She was staring at him, her brown eyes wide with horror.

"You know about the debt?" she whispered hoarsely. He nodded glumly.

"Potter told me. Don't worry," he added hurriedly when she started to sit up with a flinch of pain, "I understand. You didn't have a choice. He said it was killing you. I'm not angry with you for…playing along, and for helping me as you did."

Hermione shook her head in distress.

"No, you don't understand-"

He clenched his hands into fists and slid forwards so that he was perched on the very edge of his seat, feeling like he was about to take a plunge into icy waters.

"It's fine, Hermione. The debt was controlling you. It hurts, but I've accepted it. But please put me out of my misery and just tell me this…if there had been no debt, did you ever think for a moment that maybe you could love me too?"

Draco's gaze was fixed on her, urgently watching for even the slightest hint that he could have reason to hope. But as he watched her expression, he saw it range wildly from fear to anger and then what appeared to be disappointment. He felt his gut spasm and clench with grief. Her beautiful eyes were cast downwards as she stared sorrowfully at the mattress, her fingers now knotting around the sheets. Draco couldn't bear it. He jumped to his feet, the chair making a shrill scraping sound on the pristine hospital floor. He nodded to himself firmly, although his mind was still numb and unable to really absorb her lack of response.

"I…I'm…I'm sorry," Draco murmured at last, shaking his head dazedly. "I'm sorry," he repeated again, before spinning around to stride from the hospital wing as fast as his feet could carry him. He had to leave immediately, before the tears spilled over his lashes and wet his cheeks with his anguish. Distantly he heard Hermione calling his name, but he ignored it and kept going on his purposeful path, desperate for air or some kind of relief from the pain.

It wasn't until he was nearly at the door that a different sound sent a shock through his system and he spun back around. A clattering of pans and bottles crashing to the floor jolted him and he whirled back to see Hermione reaching out a hand towards him, her mouth open with surprise as she tumbled out of the bed and into a crumpled pile on the floor.

Although half blinded by tears, Draco raced back to the bed at once in a dead sprint, skidding to a halt by her side and dropping down to kneel before her.

"Hermione?" he whispered anxiously, checking her over for any serious injuries from her fall. He brushed her curls tenderly back from her face, probably the last time he would touch her, and looked into her terrified eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked nervously and, although she was visibly trembling, Hermione nodded in the affirmative.

"I didn't twist my shoulder too badly-" she murmured with a flush to her cheeks.

"Why did you try and stand?" he demanded with a furious scowl, "You know you're not strong enough!"

Hermione sniffled slightly and peered at him with a miserable expression.

"You wouldn't stop! And I couldn't let you leave."

Draco closed his eyes and felt daring enough to press his forehead against hers. He breathed in her summery scent deeply, trying to memorise every cadence.

"I couldn't stay," he muttered thickly, "I thought I was brave enough to hear you say the words but I'm not. We should just part ways-"

Hermione grasped his face in her hands vigorously, forcing his head back to meet her gaze.

"No, Draco! You've got it all wrong. I'm sorry I took so long to speak, but I was so confused at what you said, and angry at Harry for telling you because he messed it all up, and sad that you truly believed I was indifferent to you!"

Draco's chest, which had been frozen with despair for several minutes now, started to thrum back to life with a steadily mounting pulse until all he could hear was the thundering beat in his eardrums.

"What are you saying?" he pleaded, his eyes staring at her hungrily. He vaguely realised that they were both huddled up in a pile on the floor, with only the dimmest light of a nearby candle lighting their faces, but he didn't really care.

"Draco, it's true that the life debt sort of made me jump in front of that knife…" he swallowed and nodded in recognition. Theo had obviously been right, but he didn't want to comment until she had finished. She smiled tremulously and took a deep breath to continue, "But the reason the life debt was killing me before that was because I was falling in love with you too!"

Draco blinked at her in shock. He certainly hadn't been expecting her to say it, and the electric bolt that raced through his body set him on fire. It was like coming up for air after drowning to death. His limbs shuddered and his hands jerked forwards to grasp her by the upper arms.

" _What?_ " he whispered, half in hope and half in disbelief. Hermione nodded eagerly, her brown irises swimming with unshed tears.

"It's true. Life debts are usually forged between people who are adversaries. But when you and I became friends it started to feel strange. And when my feelings for you grew…" here she blushed prettily but carried on with a stubborn smile, "…it started to become dangerous. It actually hurt me. Oh, don't you see, Draco? I wasn't supposed to love you, and it punished me for ruining the balance between us. That was why it demanded such a terrible payment to settle it."

Draco made a deranged choking sound as he stared at her in confused wonderment. A single tear fell from her lashes and trailed a lazy path down the bridge of her nose, tracing over her lips gently. She unconsciously brushed it away with an impatient hand.

"Please say something, Draco. It's your turn," she laughed. He realised he was holding onto her arms far too tightly, and winced as he thought of the wound hidden beneath the edge of her shirt. He softened his hold and ran his hands over her skin, revelling in the sensation it gave him. He had been such a fool. He had completely underestimated her, as usual, and denied any possibility that her feelings had been genuine and not controlled by the life debt. He supposed self-hatred and misery had become so familiar to him lately that he had simply expected the worst. Perhaps his imprisonment had damaged him more than he'd thought. Realising that he still hadn't spoken, Draco cleared his throat.

"Tell me again," he begged in a throaty whisper, "Say it properly."

Hermione chuckled at the boyish smirk on his face and happily obliged his request.

"I've fallen in love with you too," she said earnestly, her voice a tender caress that made his whole body shiver in response. Draco's gaze dropped to her lips and he swallowed heavily. Leaning forwards he started to press his mouth to hers when suddenly he froze and drew back a tiny bit, the taste of her lips just tickling him out of reach.

"Are you sure there's no debt anymore?" he asked anxiously, remembering her pain and afraid of being the cause of any more. She was looking serious now as well and she nodded curtly, her fingers digging into his neck as she tried to pull him towards her. Her eyes were fixed on his lips too, and he couldn't wait any longer. He kissed her with all the pent up passion and yearning he had been dying to show her for weeks. Hermione groaned and opened her mouth to him and their tongues duelled ravenously. He tried to devour her sweet taste, wanting to explore every inch of her mouth. He tilted his head to the side and chewed on her bottom lip, nipping at it then running his tongue over the swollen flesh soothingly. Hermione's fingers started scratching at his scalp when she ran them through his hair and he shuddered as the sensation trickled down his spine. Draco tried to pull her closer. He wanted to feel more of her soft curves against his. He pulled his lips from hers and grasped her legs, which were still tangled on the floor.

"Hermione, I need you-" he breathed huskily, running his hands up her thighs and tugging her closer. Hermione tilted her head back to give him more access to her neck as he dragged his lips over her jaw and began placing open mouthed kisses on her sweet skin. He could feel the fast throbbing of her pulse in her throat under his lips as he cradled her to him. Draco wished he could taste very inch of her. He impatiently brushed her curls over her shoulder and out of the way as he ravished her skin.

But when Hermione impatiently began to crawl into his lap, joining their lips ferociously once more, he felt the moment when she stiffened and flinched away.

"Ohh-" she grunted in pain and dropped her head to his shoulder. Her arms were shaking as they clung to him. Draco's heart skipped in fear as he tried to support her slumped form. He lifted her head with soft hands, meeting her eyes, which were narrowed in discomfort.

"What is it? Hermione? Is it the debt still?"

His mouth was dry and he waited anxiously for her to compose herself. She was panting harshly as she blinked away the lingering ache from the sudden stab of pain that had gripped her.

"No…no it's not the life debt-" she finally explained with a tentative smile and he let out a deep breath of relief. He had been so terrified for a moment that they had been wrong about it. He waited patiently for her to continue, "It's just my wound…it hurts. When I moved I think I knocked it-"

Draco looked down worriedly at the spot just below her shoulder where the bandage was clinging to her protectively. He swallowed and grimaced.

"I'm so sorry. I got carried away-"

"It's alright," Hermione dismissed gently, "So did I."

Draco took great effort then to scoop her up into his arms as gently as possible. He hooked his arm under her knees and lifted her up and into the bed. As she nestled back into the soft mattress he smirked down at her swollen lips and pink cheeks.

"We _will_ finish this later, love," he breathed into her ear before he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Hermione nodded eagerly.

"Will you stay with me?" she murmured into his neck as he arranged her pillows and pulled the sheet up over her again until she was completely covered. Although his stomach was still grumbling for food, he was more interested in prolonging this moment with Hermione and making sure she was safe and happy. Without a word he slipped underneath the covers next to her. Hermione immediately cuddled into his side, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. Draco smiled up at the ceiling. His whole body felt warm and alive with the simple pleasure of holding the woman he loved. There was only one reservation still gnawing at him now. He tried to push it away but it kept niggling in the back of his mind as his doubts mounted again. He shifted onto his side and ran a hand across Hermione's curls. She looked sleepy, but blinked and gazed up at him openly. He took a deep breath.

"Hermione-" he murmured gently, his hand still toying with one of her curls and wrapping it around his finger, "I need to know… why didn't you tell me about the life debt? Didn't you trust me? I promise if I had known, I would never have demanded anything from you or used the debt to my advantage-"

Her expression instantly turned regretful and she bit her bottom lip with a frown.

"I do trust you, Draco! Completely! I know we should have told you. But I was so afraid that you would question _my_ motives-"

Draco snorted and shook his head.

"Which I suppose I did, fool that I am. When Potter told me, I thought you were only helping me because of the debt, that you didn't really have feelings for me after all."

Hermione nodded and snuggled closer to him, placing a gentle kiss on his jaw.

"I should have been honest with you right from the start. But I couldn't bear to give you more grief when you were already dealing with so much. The prison, the trial… I didn't want to hurt you any more than you were already hurting."

Draco nodded glumly, accepting her reasoning even if he didn't like it.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione repeated, watching him with trepidation, "Can you forgive me?"

He saw the slight fear in her eyes and instantly leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her bottom lip.

"I'll try," he hummed against her mouth, feeling her lips stretch into a smile. Hermione sighed contentedly against him and then she was wrapping herself around him with a peaceful expression as she let herself be drawn back slowly to sleep. Draco felt her breathing deepen and her body relax until it was completely slack against him. He folded his arms around her and held her close. There was no prison, no trial, and no debt in between them now. Draco smiled again and finally let his eyelids drift close as he too welcomed sleep.

….

….

Lavender Brown crept through the Hospital Wing quite early the next morning. She had her own private room down one end of the wing where the sun came in at dawn. But she didn't mind. She liked waking up as it rose over the Hogwarts lawns.

The clicking of her crutch on the cold floors of the wing was surprisingly loud as it echoed around the high domed ceilings. But she knew that it was still too early for people to be disturbed. As she went past Hermione's bed, she paused and decided to peep through the curtains to check on her new friend. Brushing aside the material, she peered through and the sight that met her forced a silly grin onto her face. Hermione was cuddled up into Draco Malfoy's side, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. The blond Slytherin boy looked so different in sleep. His face was relaxed and almost innocent; he wasn't wearing the familiar sneer or haughty expression that she was used to from school. It had been quite a shock yesterday when Harry had revealed the secret about the life debt, and she didn't think she would ever forget the look on the poor boy's face afterwards. He had looked like all hope and feeling had been drained from him. She had watched with the utmost pity as he stumbled from the room blindly, fighting to breath and trembling visibly. She didn't know what a life debt really was or what it was supposed to do to someone, but she did have some experience with broken hearts. And that was exactly how the Mafloy boy had reacted. As if his heart had been severed from Hermione's and he wasn't sure how to grieve his loss.

Lavender's grin widened as she looked over the two lovebirds clutching onto each other so tightly in the pinkish morning light. They had obviously resolved their issues. It must have happened sometime late last night, because when she had gone to sleep, Draco was still missing.

Lavender gave a wistful sigh. It was so romantic that those two had fallen in love, she thought. The Slytherin prince and the Gryffindor princess overcoming their tragic, hateful past and finding solace in each other's arms was the stuff of novels! With a last happy look in their direction, she limped off down the rows of beds, thinking about her Ron. Maybe after all the pain and despair following the war, there was a happy ending for each of them after all.

….

….

 **See… quite fluffy. Okay, so we've got one or two chapters to go until we're finished to tie up some loose ends and some tension. Hope you enjoyed the reconciliation! Let me know how you want things to wrap up in your reviews!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

 **Possible last chapter here, not entirely decided. Hope you enjoy the fluff and the lemons. Always tricky to write but good to get off one's shoulders.**

 **Thank you for continuing to leave such nice, enthusiastic reviews. You make it all so easy. As always, JKR is the mistress of the pages.**

Harry sat nervously across from his dearest friend, tapping his foot nervously on the pavement. He watched as she calmly took a sip from her tea; her features serene and her attention focused on the cup in front of her. From the smell of it he was sure that Madam Pomfrey had included her usual mixture of healing herbs to the brew to fasten Hermione's recovery. Harry noticed how the sun glinted off her brown curls in the evening light, although they were a little limp and bedraggled from spending all day in bed. She had seemed relieved to escape the confines of the Hopsital Wing earlier that afternoon. He had not been so confident, though, and continued to watch her closely; her eyes were sunken and tired and her skin was still very pale. But she seemed relaxed enough.

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably and rubbed his nose, as he was known to do when he was embarrassed about something.

"Hermione? Are you just going to sit there?" he asked in a pained voice after the silence became too much for him, "Don't you want to yell at me? Or something?"

Hermione cocked her head to one side and stared at him with an arched brow as she lowered her cup back to its saucer.

"Why would I yell at you?" she asked with an innocent expression. Harry snorted.

"Because I told Malfoy about the life debt."

Hermione shook her head and gave him a gentle smile.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed, "I'll admit I was a little cross at first, but I'm not anymore."

His brows rose in shock and he sat forwards in his chair.

"Really?" he asked with a mild sense of disbelief. Hermione's smiled widened and she shrugged.

"I'm not angry at you for telling him about the life debt, given the circumstances. He needed to know. And Draco himself told me that he goaded you and provoked your temper. I _am,_ however, a bit vexed by the manner in which you told him. You just spilled the secret and then left him to believe that I didn't truly care for him."

Harry squirmed a bit in chagrin, but not too much. For although her words were clearly a reprimand, she had a fond, almost teasing expression on her face.

"Well he didn't exactly give me much chance to explain," he grumbled a bit petulantly, "He hexed me then stormed out!"

Hermione smirked.

"What did you expect?"

"He didn't have to react so childishly!"

"He was hurt," she argued gently.

Harry continued to scowl a bit at the reminder of his hurried words to Malfoy a couple of days ago, wondering not for the first time if he could have eased the blow a lot more by being patient and compassionate instead of just blurting it out. But as a blush suffused his cheeks, he saw Hermione's smile turn into an amused grin.

"Oh! I know what the real problem is," she joked, "You're just annoyed that you ended up sprawled on your arse! Was the famous hero Harry Potter embarrassed?"

Harry spluttered for a few moments in indignation before he finally succumbed to her taunts and chuckled.

"Fine! You've caught me. I didn't expect Malfoy to be so fast with his wand. I thought prison at least would have dulled his reflexes."

Hermione giggled and gave him a sympathetic pat on the back, which Harry accepted good-naturedly. He was just pleased that she didn't seem to be bitter about his poor choice of words the other day to Malfoy. He hadn't even needed to lift a finger to beg or cajole for forgiveness, which he had been fully expecting too.

"You're too kind, Hermione. I was expecting to have to grovel more," he told her. Hermione smiled mischievously.

"Maybe you still should," she suggested happily, making him laugh again.

At that moment their semi-privacy was interrupted by Lavender Brown, slumping down in a seat next to them. Harry winced when he saw how she hobbled, and the deep gash on her leg. But she seemed cheerful enough. Not as exuberant and flirty as she had been at school, but rather just contentedly friendly. He had to confess he quite liked her now, whereas he remembered in sixth year trying desperately to avoid her as much as possible. It seemed a lot of people had changed the last couple of years. Malfoy being the most extreme example.

"Hi Lavender," Hermione greeted with a warm smile. The other girl gave her a sly look.

"Why hello, Hermione!" Both Harry and Hermione narrowed their eyes at the blonde girl, before she continued, "Where's dearest Draco?"

Harry snorted at Lavender's impish mood. He was pleased that Hermione finally had another female friend to tease her about boys. She had probably been far too stifled over the years with just him and Ron for company. She needed more girlfriends than just Ginny, who had her own circle of friends as well.

"Are you in a puckish mood, Lavender?" Hermione inquired with a raised brow. Lavender scoffed and lifted her leg up onto another chair in front of her with a slight grimace.

"Hardly! I just casually noticed that he hasn't left your side in about a million hours, and wondered where he was…"

Hermione chuckled and shook her head.

"He's gone home for a short time to shower and get a proper change of clothes."

Lavender raised a quizzical brow.

"Voluntarily?"

His curly haired friend snorted.

"Of course not. Narcissa and I had to practically force him."

The blonde sighed happily.

"He does seem very devoted…"

Harry and Hermione shared an amused glance with each other before a different voice interrupted their musings.

"Who's devoted?"

Lavender welcomed her boyfriend with a beaming smile, accepting a gentle kiss on the forehead as he collapsed tiredly down next to her. She shuffled over to give him room and Ron wrapped an arm around her. Hermione smiled at their easy closeness as he nodded at them in greeting.

"Draco," she explained warily, but Ron just pulled an ugly face and gave an exaggerated shudder.

"Okay, I don't want to know."

" _Ron!_ " Lavender scolded with a gentle laugh that made him blush.

"What?" he scoffed, but then obviously noticed Harry frowning at him warningly and he threw up his hands, "Fine! We're all best friends with ferret-face now. I'm overjoyed."

They all looked a bit shocked at his sarcastic tone for a moment, but then after exchanging a few meaningful glances, each one of them burst into laughter. Even Ron eventually broke into a reluctant smile.

"You'd better get used to it, Ron," Harry eventually warned when they had managed to calm themselves somewhat, "I suspect he's around to stay!"

Hermione grinned and nodded in agreement just as Ron gave another over the top groan and buried his head in Lavender's blonde curls. Their laughter started all over again as they fell into companionable conversation. Harry noticed that Hermione was still fairly quiet, and her posture was stiff as she tried not to move her shoulder. But she was improving every hour of every day, and he was so painfully aware and grateful that she had survived such an impossible situation. And more than that, she seemed truly happy for the first time in years. He was glad, but swore to himself right then and there that if Malfoy ever hurt her even slightly he would make the other boy's hex seem like child's play. Nobody messed with Harry Potter's family.

….

….

A week after the troubling events that had brought them to Hogwarts, Draco was at his wits end. Although he spent almost every moment by Hermione's side while she was recovering, they were constantly surrounded by friends and family on both sides who seemed determined to interrupt them at every opportunity. He was honestly ready to hex the next person who chose to intrude on their private moments with each other. Since their discussion and their kiss on the floor of the hospital wing in the middle of the night, it felt like the dam had burst between them. Hermione was no longer trying to contain her feelings or curb the dangers of the debt. And he was filled with a new wave of energy and vigour since being acquitted and released from prison. The resulting passion was rather uninhibited. The last few nights they had cuddled up in the rickety old hospital bed, him holding her as she went to sleep. But it had taken a while for each of them to drift off, since they were much too occupied running their hands over each other's bodies and kissing urgently, like there was a madness in them both that only the other could cure. He was always careful of the knife wound beneath her shoulder, and was trying desperately to control his urge to just let his desires run wild. But he needed to protect her, since he had failed in keeping her safe from Rowle.

He knew Hermione was equally frustrated, but she also clearly saw more humour in their situation, for she often had a silly grin on her face as she watched his irritation increase with each new obstacle. He had taken to just scowling threateningly every time someone interrupted them for a visit. He was sure he seemed taciturn and unsociable to everyone. Whether it was Lavender, Harry, Narcissa or even the seemingly endless clan of Weasleys, there was always someone conspiring to keep him in a permanent state of unfulfilled arousal and yearning for Hermione.

One morning, when it was still too early and impolite for others to drop by for a visit, Draco managed to hoist Hermione out of bed and carry her as far away from the Hospital Wing as physically possible. She had laughed and teased him the entire way, until they wound up in a secluded corridor where she suddenly begged to be put down.

"What is it? Did I hurt you?" he asked in concern. Hermione shook her head hurriedly, her expression suddenly serious.

"No. I just wanted to kiss you."

Draco grinned triumphantly and proceeded to press her against the wall of the hallway and snog her senseless. He revelled in their isolation from all others. They began their now routine exploration of each other's bodies, but this time it could continue. Fingers fumbled with collars to expose Hermione's neck so that he could run his lips over her skin. He loved the way she arched her back to get closer to him. He sought out her lips again and kissed her, delighting when she wantonly opened her mouth to him and he lost himself in the taste of her. Groaning at the realisation that they would be well secluded this time, Draco slid his hand down her back slowly until he reached the curve of her bottom. He used his grip to tug her in closer so that his rapidly rising cock was nestled in the cradle of her hips. A hot spike of lust shot through him and he felt himself tremble. He was aware of Hermione gasping against him and he drew back slightly.

"Are you okay?" he mumbled against her lips, unwilling to separate too far, but knowing he would stop immediately if she was at all uncomfortable. Hermione breathed harshly for a few seconds, and he noticed her heavy lidded eyes flicker down to his crotch where he was certain he was now straining against the front of his trousers. He licked his lips and leaned his forehead against hers, chuckling dryly.

"You have no idea what you do to me…" he croaked, but Hermione scoffed softly under her breath.

"I think I have an inkling-" she whispered tentatively. She bit into her bottom lip and shifted her hips so that his hard length rubbed against her just right. Draco grunted in surprise, cursing rather crudely through clenched teeth. He dropped his head to rest on her good shoulder. Draco blinked and then placed a few hurried kisses against her collarbone. He pressed her more firmly into the wall as she threw back her head and panted.

"Miss Granger!"

"Oh goodness me…"

 _Oh no._

Draco pulled himself off Hermione quickly, seeing her face flush a deep crimson at the unexpected sight of both Professor McGonagall and Flitwick watching them from the entrance to their little corridor. Draco quickly jerked sideways so that he was standing partially hidden behind her, effectively hiding the obvious evidence of his desire.

"Oh! I'm…uh…we're so…sorry," Hermione whined in complete mortification at the expressions of shock on their former teachers' faces. She buried her face in her hands to hide her flushed cheeks. Draco would have chuckled at her adorable embarrassment if he weren't so damn furious about being interrupted _again._

"I had read the articles in the Daily Prophet of course," McGonagall stammered in a much less stern brogue than he was used to, "but I hadn't realised…" her voice trailed off and she just settled for glaring at the Slytherin boy standing behind her precious favourite student. She was obviously referring to the numerous rumours circulating about their supposedly secret relationship. Hermione throwing herself in front of him to take a knife in the chest had certainly created a hive of gossip in the wizarding world. They were apparently embroiled in some scandalous, torrid affair behind poor Ron Weasley's back. Hermione opened her mouth to continue a litany of apologies to the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, but Flitwick beat her to it. The little wizard was beaming and he held up a wiry hand to stem her ramblings.

"Professor McGonagall and I must sadly get going, we unfortunately cannot spare any time for a catch up, even with two of our brightest former students. We have a very important meeting with the board of directors, right Minerva?"

The Scottish woman spluttered for a few moments before shutting her mouth audibly and nodding.

"Very good!" Flitwick announced, clapping his hands together, "Well then, I hope you both have a lovely day. Let us know if you… _require…_ any help with your recovery, Miss Granger."

He said the word 'require' with deliberate emphasis, before striding off with a parting wink. McGonagall, who had not seemed to recover from her shock, just blindly followed after him, though not before shooting Draco a parting frown of suspicion.

Once their footsteps had faded completely, Draco turned back towards the curly haired Gryffindor and saw with a pang of annoyance that she was wringing her hands together in mortification.

"Oh that was so…so…humiliating!"

Draco gently turned her towards him and tried to rub her hands between his to stem her anxiety, but she continued to pout. Luckily her scowl was incredibly attractive. He bent down closer with the intention of kissing her.

"Draco…"

"Yes?" he asked hopefully, wanting to continue where they left off. She sighed.

"Take me back to the Hospital Wing."

Draco stifled a groan.

 _Damn these interruptions!_

….

….

It wasn't until much later the following day that Hermione truly figured out Professor Flitwick's hint. Since then she had barely been alone with Draco at all. Of course, they had fallen asleep in the same way as usual. Just as they had done each night since her initial survival of the knife wound, they explored each other with a thoroughness and an intensity that took her breath away. They kissed with so much yearning that she felt like she would burn up completely. But it had been a tiring day with far too many visitors once again and eventually she had needed sleep.

But not long after she had woken the next day, Flitwick's words came back to her suddenly and with a jolt of excitement. She had been staring unapologetically at Draco's pale, handsome face when the epiphany struck her.

"Oh of course!" she shouted out, a grin on her face. Everyone turned to look at her. She realised that she had spoken out loud and now Narcissa, Harry and Lavender were all staring at her as if she were mad.

"Sorry, I just remembered something," she murmured shyly.

It wasn't until later, when she and Draco had a brief moment of peace that she finally worked up the courage to smile slyly at him.

"I think Professor Flitwick is more devious than he appears," she said with a light hum to her voice. Draco cocked his head to one side.

"Really? How so?"

She giggled a bit and leaned in close to him just in case they would be overheard.

"I was merely thinking of the way he said the word _require,_ with such deliberate intent…"

Draco frowned at her in confusion.

"And this means what exactly?"

"Don't you see?" she replied excitedly, "The Room of Requirement! No one can disrupt us there. If we could sneak away, no one would find us. We can …that is to say… uh…" Hermione's voice trailed off. Now that she was actually speaking the words, she realised with a fierce blush what it actually meant. Her skin shivered, but not unpleasantly. She was basically making it clear to him that if they sought out the privacy of that enchanted room then they could finally shag madly like they had both clearly been dying to do this last week. Hermione's mouth snapped closed and she felt the heat spread from her cheeks down her neck and across her chest. She was sure he noticed the direction of her thoughts. Draco blinked a couple of times, his eyes widening, but then his mouth stretched into a feral grin. She didn't think she had ever seen him look so hopeful.

"You, my little lioness, truly are the brightest witch of our age."

Hermione bit into her bottom lip, pleased by the look of longing and excitement on his face. He was practically quivering in his seat already. Before she could reply, he drew her to him and kissed her soundly. Her naval instantly experienced a flare of heat as he pressed his lips violently against hers. If he could make her feel so much pleasure from a simple kiss, then she wondered curiously how it would feel if he continued.

"Tonight, please-" Draco whispered against her lips and she nodded eagerly. He drew back and she could see that his smile was gone. In its place was a look of dark passion that made her feel weak with anticipation. She wished that it was night time already.

….

….

Draco had never been more nervous in his life than he was that night when the two hopeful lovers snuck away from the Hospital Wing after everyone else was in bed. They stole through the darkness hand in hand, walking slowly due to Hermione's lingering stiffness in her chest and shoulder. But her spirits were high. She kept giggling every time one of them scuffed their foot or brushed by a creaking suit of armour. She seemed to be even more amused by his solemn behaviour. He was far too terrified to smile. His mind was in chaos with so many worries about her injury, her first time, his long abstinence in prison and his desperation to please her. But simmering below all this anxiety was a raw, exhilarating need. He wanted Hermione. And soon he would have her. They would have each other.

Draco left it up to her to pace backwards and forwards across the entrance to the room. He was certain that if _he_ did it, then there was no knowing what would turn up inside. His mind was far too preoccupied with the physical aspects of what was to come to risk it.

Once inside, Draco was pleased with the way the room was furnished. There was a cosy fireplace and a rug, with a comfy looking couch and a large bed. His eyebrows flew up in surprise when he saw the familiar patchwork quilt spread across the bed. The dark blue and green pattern brought the first smile to his face, remembering her kind gifts to him while he was imprisoned. Hermione smiled shyly too.

"It seemed appropriate," she whispered, and he could only nod in agreement.

What followed was by far the best night of his miserable life. It began slowly at first. They lay on the rug by the fire, whispering to each other even though there was no need to keep their voices down here.

"What do you want to do with your life now that you're free?" Hermione had asked him. Draco ran a gentle hand across her cheek.

"I'm not sure. I might try to take my replacement NEWTs as well. The Malfoy business was sunk by my father years ago in favour of his other, more sinister responsibilities. I've thought about curse breaking…"

"That suits you," Hermione commented with a smirk. He placed a tender kiss on her lips, the heat from the fire roasting on pleasantly beside them. She broke away and continued, "But what about your money? Your inheritance?"

He knew she was referring to his rather enormous fine from the Ministry. But releasing a slight chuckle, Draco shrugged.

"I have lost a _lot_ of money, by normal standards that's true, but it's inconsequential."

Hermione cocked her head to the side with a mild frown.

"Why?"

He blushed a bit in embarrassment.

"I'm not sure you realise just how wealthy the Malfoys are, Hermione. It is only a very small fraction of my net worth."

Hermione gave a low whistle and smiled cheekily.

"No wonder so many girls were mad about you at school."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Indeed," he replied drolly. He watched as Hermione thought about it for a long moment, her brows furrowed closely together. Eventually her eyes widened as something occurred to her. Draco waited patiently as she considered her words.

"Draco, I'm not sure what you purebloods are used to when it comes to girlfriends, but I fully plan to have a career."

Draco was very surprised by her unexpected statement. His mouth dropped open a little.

"Why would I not want you to have a career?"

Hermione shrugged.

"I know that girls like Pansy prefer not to work. They're basically just overindulged, silly decorations to be sold off like cattle to the richest family."

Draco chuckled at her description. He leant in very close to her and placed a worshipping kiss on her pouty bottom lip. Then he tilted his head back to stare adoringly but seriously into her brown eyes.

"Hermione, I would never expect you to be like one of those women. Having money doesn't mean you don't also want to contribute something to the world and find a calling that fulfils you. I _want_ you to do whatever makes you happy."

"Thank you," she responded quietly.

"So what _do_ you want to do?" he asked curiously, wondering whether she'd made up her mind.

"Well I've been tossing around lots of ideas, but lately I've been thinking about applying for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Draco's brows raised in surprise.

"Really?"

"Absolutely…from what I've seen throughout your trial, there's a lot of room for progress and reform in magical law. It'd be interesting to cause some ripples."

Draco snorted, looking at her appreciatively as he admired her innate goodness. He couldn't imagine a more perfectly stubborn and virtuous woman.

"You're not just going to make ripples. You might cause a tidal wave!"

Hermione smiled beautifully, basking in the compliment. The next moment she was sealing their lips in a hungry kiss. Draco almost let himself get lost in the sensations she roused when he suddenly froze and pulled away. A grin spread across his face.

"You do realise you basically just referred to yourself as my _girlfriend…?_ "

Hermione blinked quickly at his comment. She started to smile before it turned into a worried grimace.

"Oh…um…If you don't want me to then-"

"Don't be ridiculous! You are _my_ girlfriend. End of story." He said this cheekily and enjoyed Hermione's matching smile.

"Well, if you insist," she replied sarcastically.

"I do."

Talking became too difficult at that point, because their mouths became far too occupied for idle chatter. Draco's was consumed with kissing every inch he could find of Hermione's skin and she was busy gasping for breath and moaning in anticipation as he exposed more and more of her body to his hungry lips.

Right there in front of the fire, Draco slowly stripped each item of clothing from her. He was careful not to jostle her injury, and placed tender kisses around the bandaged skin which was still pink and angry from healing.

"Draco, your turn, please-" she begged him, reaching for his own clothes and starting to strip them from him with a sense of urgency. He felt like his skin was on fire everywhere she touched him. Draco groaned and removed the final article separating him completely from her. But just before he moved to lower his body and press his skin to hers, he realised that the last thing he wanted was to make love to Hermione for the first time here on the floor. Gently, he cradled her to his chest and carried her over to the bed, laying her down on the quilt. For a moment all he could do was stare down at her in bewilderment. She was so perfect he felt almost numb with pleasure. He wasn't even touching her yet, but little pinpricks of ecstasy were already beginning to spread out from his naval. Then he lowered himself to rest against her and it was heaven. As soon as their bare skin made contact he shuddered so hard she had to grip onto his shoulders to still his movement. He dropped his head to her chest and let out the breath he had been holding. Hermione gasped when he began to kiss his way over her breasts, tugging one nipple into his mouth and sucking on it until she whined and arched her back.

He continued his kisses down over her flat stomach and around her hips until he could taste her properly. Hermione seemed shocked by his actions at first. She was a little shy and her legs stiff, but she didn't try and stop him. Draco darted out his tongue and licked her slowly, groaning at the heady flavour of her on his tongue. He suckled on her long and hard, driving her close to the brink and back again. Her fingers had curled through his hair and she was tugging him closer. The sting of pain on his scalp made his eyes roll back into his head. When he thought she was ready to come, Draco smoothly inserted one finger inside her. He groaned at the feeling of her tight walls gripping him and knew he wouldn't be able to wait much longer. Hermione clenched around him firmly as her panting escalated and then she was moaning his name and he was scrunching his eyes shut and grinding his teeth so that he wouldn't completely lose control of himself and go off like a total novice.

Hermione went eerily quiet after she had finished. Draco kept licking his lips to make sure he got every last bit of her essence, before he crawled up her body. Hermione smiled dazedly up at him.

"I've never felt something so…intense… _ever_ …" she mumbled a little blearily, and Draco allowed a smug grin to tease at his lips. She giggled when she saw it, before sobering and spreading her legs to allow him to sink down between them and feel her wet warmth against his length. He frantically grappled for his wand on the bedside and muttered a hasty contraceptive charm before allowing his body to relax against hers again.

"Hermione," he whispered huskily, "are you ready? Do you think…could we…"

He wasn't entirely sure how to ask her for the next step, but she obviously knew what his intention was. She wrapped her arms around him, stroking her fingers down his spine with a light graze of her nails. Draco inhaled sharply.

"Please, Draco," she murmured tilting her hips and making sure he rubbed against her completely. He groaned and nodded hurriedly.

"Okay, okay…no more waiting."

Then he was pushing inside her, and she was so hot and wet that he couldn't even draw breath. The air was frozen halfway to his lungs.

"Oh sweet merlin," he said in a strangled voice, before he found himself pressing against Hermione's barrier.

"Yes, keep going-" she pleaded and Draco was gone.

He thrust completely inside her and felt his hands clench the sheets beside her head in his desperation not to come straight away. Although he heard Hermione's breath hitch a bit at first, she was smiling when she finally looked up at him.

"This feels…amazing…" she moaned and at last he was able to take in a huge breath of relief.

"Shit, Hermione," she muttered against the skin of her neck as his hips twitched, in desperate need of friction, "you feel unbelievable. I've been shut away for so long from everything…fuck, I love you so much."

He wanted to explain that his isolation in prison and his poor health during that time hadn't exactly been conducive to a maintaining a normal sexual appetite, even with his own hand. And this last week of increasing physical intimacy with Hermione had kept him in an almost permanent state of arousal. But this didn't seem like the right thing to say while he was buried so deep inside her. Since he couldn't find the words to apologise for his hurried pace and inability to last long, he clumsily reached down and started stroking her while he began to thrust in earnest.

After a short while, as their grunts and moans became louder, he heard Hermione suddenly let out a little whine that sounded almost pained.

"Ow, my shoulder-"

She froze underneath him and he stilled all movement, looking down at her in concern. Her eyes were round and glassy and she looked up at him worriedly.

"There's too much weight on it-" she explained, but Draco wasn't ready to give up yet. He sat back up on the bed, pulling Hermione with him until she was straddling his waist, and he lowered her down again until she was sheathing him completely.

"Is this okay?" he asked with a tone of dread, hoping that he hadn't been too rough with her and ruined the whole experience. Hermione seemed to consider their position for a moment. She slid her hips back and forth a couple of times, and Draco's eyes swam out of focus as she did. When she let herself fall down a bit harder, her eyes popped open in surprise and she groaned.

"Oh! _Yes,_ that's good-"

Draco grinned in animalistic delight as she started to build up a rhythm. Her head had fallen back, exposing her slender neck, which he started to worship with feverishly placed, open-mouthed kisses. His hand dropped again between them and he got to work, determined to push her over the edge before he let go.

It didn't take long. Hermione was gasping in delight as she rocked up and down on him. When she started to pulsate around his length, her head snapped back up and she stared into his eyes with a sort of stunned surprise. He watched in agony as she tightened around him, feeling his whole body spasm in response.

"Draco…oh my god…Draco…"

That was all he needed to hurtle over the precipice like he was free falling at breakneck speed. He grit his teeth and groaned out her name as he clutched her hips and thrust one last time inside her. He felt himself let go, releasing himself deep within her and sending a quick prayer of thanks that she had come first.

His mind was blank as he came down from the high, his muscles growing rapidly limp and weightless. He had the dimmest presence of mind to collapse backwards instead of forwards, so that Hermione landed nestled on top of his sweaty chest so as not to aggravate her injury any more.

Draco blinked and tried to peer down to see Hermione's face, but it took only a moment to notice that she was exhausted and had fallen asleep. Her body was sprawled out on top of his, boneless, her hair spilling wildly over them both. But he would never complain about such a decadent position. It was magnificent. There was a dull ache in his groin and his chest was heaving to regain breath, but he was deliriously happy. Knowing that Hermione was asleep, still recovering from her wound, and he wasn't required to produce any stimulating post-coital conversation, Draco allowed himself to close his eyes with a grin and relax too. It wasn't long before he was almost asleep as well, his mind completely fuzzy from the overwhelming joy spilling from every inch of his heart, soul and body.

"I'm gonna marry you one day, little lioness" he promised her in a tired whisper, his eyes drooping closed as he smiled at the very thought of his future stretching before him. And before he could succumb to sleep, he noticed Hermione mumble drowsily and lift her head a mere inch from his chest. She smiled like a lazy cat on a hot summers day and placed an indolent kiss on his skin.

"I'd like that," she said through a yawn, dropping her head back down and returning to sleep an instant later. He chuckled and grinned to himself.

Freedom was turning out better than he had ever hoped or anticipated. And he was going to make the most of his second chance at life, starting and ending with Hermione Jean Granger.

….

….

 **Well that's the end for the present. Thanks for reading. I wasn't sure whether to do an epilogue; I might just leave it at that – what do you think? Are we happy for our lovely couple? Let me know in beautifully kind reviews. Thanks again.**


	20. Epilogue

**"** **GOLDEN GIRL TACKLES CORRUPTION**

 **Ministry Elite Faces Magical Renaissance"**

 ** _Luna Lovegood reports on the Age of Peace._**

Beloved brains of the Golden Trio Hermione Granger has continued to make her mark on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement since she joined their ranks with ten perfect NEWT results a year ago. Her latest triumph has been submitting a review of the treatment of prisoners in Azkaban awaiting trial. Her findings were analysed and ratified by the Wizengamot this morning and changes are already underway.

Readers might be familiar with Miss Granger's history of being outspoken against the conditions at the wizarding prison when she bravely defended Mr Draco Malfoy last year during his trial. At that time she was very candid in her criticisms of the ministry laws being antiquated in their protection of those in prison who should be protected under the presumption of innocence. Drawing ideas from the muggle legal system, Miss Granger has fought to have basic necessities returned to prisoners who are currently forced to survive using primitive and insufficient facilities, which fail to prevent illness and extreme suffering, both physical and psychological.

Readers were shocked by Miss Granger's actions in supporting Draco Malfoy during his trial over a year ago, although she successfully managed to rally a lot of support for his cause at that time. But it was the horrific attack in which she was injured at the conclusion of his trial that became the stuff of legend in the weeks and months afterwards. Her heroic actions to protect Mr Malfoy from violent Death Eater Thorfinn Rowle exposed the forbidden relationship between the two young lovers. Personally here at the Quibbler, we celebrated the romantic bonds forged between two people once on opposite sides of a war. It was easy to dismiss the previously rampant rumours propagated by the Daily Prophet of Ron Weasley's broken heart when he soon after announced his engagement to Ms Lavender Brown. The Quibbler always believed in Hermione Granger's untarnished reputation and congratulated the happy couple on the public reveal of their relationship to the community shortly after.

Hermione Granger's list of accomplishments grew in the months following when she victoriously received her record breaking NEWT marks. One highlight included earning an impressive 140% in Ancient Runes, the highest ever awarded to a Hogwarts student. The wizarding community was stunned that she managed this feat while recovering from her stab wound and attending ongoing treatment. Best friend and delightfully humble Chosen One Harry Potter said, _"We couldn't be more proud of Hermione. She is truly the brightest witch I know - she's one of a kind - and proof to everyone that old prejudices against muggleborns perpetrated by Voldemort are completely ridiculous."_ Granger departed on a well-earned holiday for two months after receiving her results. Acquaintances noticed the concurrent disappearance of Mr Malfoy during these months, and it was rumoured that the two had left for a romantic getaway somewhere in Australia.

However it didn't take long upon her return and subsequent placement in the Ministry to start making a real difference. As a treasured war heroine, her voice was heard immediately and her ideas for reform welcomed by most in her department. The changes to Azkaban's conditions include proper cleaning amenities, satisfactory nutritional requirements, and wards and charms placed to improve the physical stresses of each individual cell, such as warmth and fresh air. The most outspoken protests to the new reforms have come from former Azkaban warden and slime ball Denis Friedman. When a thorough investigation of the prison was conducted, a large number of appalling realities were exposed, leading to Friedman's much applauded sacking.

Here at the Quibbler, we welcome the news of Friedman's dismissal and the many improvements to the prison instigated by Miss Granger's review. We will be eagerly watching Granger's career as she continues to work alongside Mr Potter in bringing our community out of the Dark Ages and into the new era of peace and prosperity.

Readers will also be fascinated to learn that witnesses have reported spotting Draco Malfoy spending over an hour in a muggle jewellery store early this week. Our photographer snapped him carrying a small, square box ( _see photo below),_ which looks suspiciously like it might be a diamond ring. When asked to comment, long time friend and notorious bachelor Theodore Nott claimed, _"I know nothing about Draco's intention to propose to Granger. But I wouldn't be surprised. I've never seen two people more disgustingly in love. I only hope he doesn't ask me to be best man because I might actually vomit during their vows."_

We will be keeping a close eye out for any announcements from the couple, and will keep our readers updated on Granger's progress in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If you want to see our candid photos of Granger and Malfoy kissing publically outside their London townhouse last March, see page 15. If you want to read an extract from the controversial seer _Bertola Berry's Images of the Beyond_ about her soul based interpretation of the couple's intimate body language, see Page 19.

 **The End.**


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